


Ain't That A Kick In The Head

by greyscalerainbows



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fluff, Its a good time, Surfing AU, converted fic, its cute
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-22
Updated: 2016-12-20
Packaged: 2018-08-24 00:48:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 90,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8349679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyscalerainbows/pseuds/greyscalerainbows
Summary: On an abrupt, ill-advised vacation from Los Angeles, Clarke trips right into Lexa Woods, a local shop owner in faded red shorts. It starts with surfboards and a jellyfish sting.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys this is orginally a faberry fic and you can read it here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8818337/2/Ain-t-That-a-Kick-in-the-Head

Everything about the place was hot. Sand, water, air. The little metal buckle on Clarke's beach bag had turned into a branding iron and the bottoms of her feet were being scorched through her flip-flops. Sand sprayed up the backs of her legs as she hurried stiltedly along the beach, head tucked low, phone pressed to her ear and gradually heating like an iron in the fire.

"Just come back, Clarke." Harper implored. Again, for maybe the twelfth time. She sounded absolutely exhausted.

Clarke plowed right through the sand.

"I'm done with it, Harper. With LA and New York, at least for a couple months. I want-"

"That's fine!" Harper's voice grew in pitch. She laughed a bit helplessly. "You can have a break, Clarke, that's great! But you can't just drop off the map without letting anybody know!"

Clarke huffed and squinted through her sunglasses, looking for somewhere to drop all of her stuff. She might need to take a detour to the water before her feet burned off.

"You didn't even tell your manager. Or your friends, Clarke. You didn't tell us."

"I'm telling you now, right?" Clarke reasoned, annoyed. She trudged through the sand and noted that the beach was less populated the further she went. "I need a break, Harper, so I'm taking a break. Right now."

Right now actually meant in the middle of the night last week, when Clarke had woken up on the floor next to her bed at three a.m. after making probably the worst mistake of her life, hit with the epiphany that she needed to get out of the city.

Maybe if she extracted herself from the situation, it would disappear nicely.

So she booked a flight. For somewhere with no traffic or gray skies, no alarms or call times, no magazines, interviews, exes, co-stars, prying, jaded eyes.

Harper sighed. She was quiet for a moment. "Where exactly did you say you are?"

"Jupiter." Clarke replied evenly.

Another planet. Where the sand scorched her feet, the sun was blinding, and the humidity curled her hair.

"Jupiter." Harper sounded unamused. "You've been in _Florida_ for three days?"

"I didn't particularly want to leave the country." Clarke reasoned. "I needed out of California and New York, and I wasn't going home, so…I thought I would appreciate the beaches."

"The beaches."

Clarke shrugged her bag higher on her shoulder and breathed heavily. "Are you just going to repeat everything I say?"

"Clarke Griffin…" Harper laughed, resigned. "I love you. I don't understand why you're doing this, why you're in _Florida_ , but-"

"Why do you keep accenting Florida like that?" Clarke broke in, mildly offended on the state's behalf.

"But, I'm here if you want to talk, okay?" Harper assured, ignoring her interruption. "I'll-maybe I can fend off your manager, but not for long. I just-I'm worried you're throwing something away. You didn't tell anybody, Clarke."

"It was spontaneous." Clarke said quietly.

Harper hummed. Clarke was not known for being impulsive.

"I'm alright. I love you too." Clarke assured.

"Be careful. Keep me updated. Take pictures and have some…oranges or something."

Clarke chuckled. Her phone was a searing block of metal by the time she dropped it back into her bag. She glanced around at her surroundings-water to her right, small sand dunes and condos to her left-satisfied with the lesser number of people.

There were families, surfers, couples- but not unruly, heedless crowds jockeying for position.

Clarke nodded to herself, turned to walk closer to the water, and promptly tripped over something hard and dropped all of her belongings. She landed ungracefully on her knees in the sand and her sunglasses slipped forward off her nose.

It was fiberglass, a surfboard. The tail of a shortboard, actually, and Clarke immediately clambered to her feet, huffing and puffing and brushing the sand from her knees. She scooped up her bag and caught the owner of the board out of the corner of her eye.

"You know, you should move your surfboard." Clarke suggested shortly, annoyed, mostly because she was now delayed and her feet were burning in the sand. And nobody was leaping up to help her.

The owner of the board sat next to it, wearing faded red lifeguard shorts and a white t-shirt. Aviators hid her eyes. When Clarke finally focused on her, she noticed sunny brunette hair and a slightly amused smile.

"It's clear that people are walking here." Clarke blustered, not having anticipated such a face.

"You should move it out of traffic."  
The woman's smile never faltered. "There's a whole beach they can use."

Her voice was low and clear and light, and Clarke was surprised again.

"Well…yes, but…" Clarke rubbed her foot where she'd caught the surfboard and pouted a little bit.

"I think you're alright." The woman mused.

Clarke narrowed her eyes. She wished she could see behind those sunglasses, see whose eyes owned that smile. She huffed and shook her head and stalked away muttering "inconsiderate bitch" because she hadn't come to Florida to argue with beautiful, belligerent surfers.

Lexa chuckled at the name.

Lexa had seen her coming from a hundred yards away. Shuffling quickly and clumsily through the sand in her pretty little sundress and pink flip-flops and oversized sunglasses. Light hair, bronze legs, lithe body.

Lexa leaned back with her palms in the sand and watched the woman dump all her stuff near the water. She bit her cheek when the small woman kicked off her flip-flops, fidgeted in place for a second, and then bounced quickly over to the wet, cool sand.

But then she pulled the white sundress over her head, revealing a dark blue bikini, and the air seemed to stick in Lexa's throat. She coughed discreetly and watched with interest, amused smile still playing on her lips.

The waves were flat today, which is why Lexa was lounging in the sand instead of paddling out. The dark-haired woman with beautiful legs still seemed wary of the choppy whitewater rolling up the shore. She carefully moved out into the water, picking her feet up high with every step and jumping back when she was splashed.

Lexa bit her lip and tilted her head.

Clarke enjoyed the cool water. She walked out until it was waist high, and then quickly ducked her head under the surface. She emerged and slicked back her hair and coughed a little bit, and she scanned the area for predators -big dorsal fins mostly- before relaxing and floating in the water.

The only thing she noticed was the brunette with the surfboard, who looked like she hadn't moved an inch.

She was probably high or something. That's what surfers did, right? Clarke let herself float around for ten minutes, doggy-paddling absently when she felt herself drift too far.  
She was standing up and observing other people in the water when she was hit with an intense, sharp, stinging pain along her right leg. She gasped and jumped in shock, moving instinctively backwards, but the burning only moved to the back of her leg.

Clarke's heart hammered wildly. It was like her limb had caught fire. Some kind of exotic shark?

She stood absolutely still, trying not to panic and pressing her nails into her palm because it hurt, and she finally spotted the small blue-tinged, air-filled sac floating behind her.

Clarke assumed it was a jellyfish. She surged forward, a little light-headed now, and when she left the water she surged straight up the sand to the brunette with the faded lifeguard shorts.

They seemed authentic enough.

"Hi, Miss? I think I'm-I need help, or-or direction, please." Clarke babbled breathlessly, looming and dripping over the brunette woman. She dug her fingers into her thigh.

Lexa surveyed her calmly, still leaning back in the sand. She plucked off her sunglasses and  
set them on her board. Clarke was struck by sparkling, knowing green eyes.

"What makes you think I can help?" Lexa raised an eyebrow.

Clarke pointed desperately at her shorts. "You're-you're a lifeguard, right?"

"No, actually."

"Look, I'm sorry I called you an inconsiderate bitch, but there's no need to lie. I need-"

"I'm not a lifeguard." Lexa said slowly, emphatically. She looked up into pained blue eyes.

"These aren't mine."

Clarke was confused and not in the mood for this. She felt ready to tip over. "You're wearing somebody else's shorts?"

The brunette woman hummed.

Clarke stared for a second, unsure of what to do, but her eyes were watering from the pain now and her head was getting dizzier, so she spun unsteadily to find somebody who could actually help her. She was a few feet away when she felt a hand on her arm.

"What's your name?" Lexa wondered, not unkindly, guiding her back towards the water.

"What are you-Clarke. I'm Clarke."

Lexa smiled slightly. "Well, Clarke, you've been stung by a man 'o war. It's like a jellyfish."

And it had left angry, red welts in long lines, wrapping around her leg from mid-thigh to her knee. They burned and stung and shot pain up to her head.

"I…have?" Clarke frowned and let this woman lead her to wherever she needed to be. Her cool hands felt nice on Clarke's hot skin. "So, do we need to-to urinate on it?"

Clarke loudly whispered the word and Lexa's lips quirked in amusement.

"Or find some vinegar? Where are you taking me and how do you know what to do if you're  
not a lifeguard?"

Lexa shook her head and stopped Clarke when they were calf-deep in the water. "Salt water and then hot water. Vinegar makes everything worse with man 'o war stings."

It could also provoke hemorrhaging, but Clarke seemed like the type to panic if she was provided with that kind of information. Lexa would see what was happening and then decide if Clarke needed emergency assistance.

"What's your name?" Clarke asked, noticing that her own voice had grown in pitch as the pain increased. She fidgeted and watched this brunette stranger douse her leg with salt water.

"Just hold still, Clarke."

Clarke dug her toes into the sand. "What's your name?"

Lexa sighed. She was a persistent little thing. "Call me Lexa."

"But is that your name?"

"Sure."

Clarke narrowed her eyes.

Lexa straightened up and rested a hand on Clarke's forearm and watched her seriously. "Do you have any allergies, Clarke? Any trouble breathing? Feel like you might faint?"

Droplets rolled down from Clarke's hairline as she shook her head slowly.

Lexa lifted an eyebrow. "Are you sure?"

"Positive." Clarke clipped.

Lexa noticed she was shaking slightly, and decided that they needed hot water sooner rather than later. It would denature the toxins and take away some of Clarke's pain.

"Can you walk?" she asked, voice gentler now. "Just…less than a mile?"

Clarke hummed vaguely. She didn't really know. All she could focus on was the burning in her leg.

"Yes or no, Clarke."

She shifted her gaze to concerned green eyes. "I-yes. I can walk. Lexa."

Lexa searched her face for a moment. She nodded and wrapped a strong arm around Clarke's shoulders, and then led her quickly back up the beach. She tucked her shortboard under her arm and guided Clarke towards the beach access path.

"What-what about my stuff?" Clarke questioned, twisting to see where she'd dropped her bag.

"Did you bring anything valuable?"

Lexa knew the answer already. Of course that overstuffed bag would be filled with valuable goodies-phone, iPod, Kindle. Clarke seemed like the type.

"Well, yeah." Clarke answered.

Lexa sighed and stopped walking. "Okay, stay here."

Clarke watched her jog back to where she'd left her belongings. Lexa moved lightly over the sand, hair shining, board tucked easily under her arm. She stuffed Clarke's towel and flip flops haphazardly into the bag, slung it over her shoulder, and then jogged back to where she'd left Clarke.

Clarke realized that Lexa didn't have any shoes. Not even a towel. All she'd had was her surfboard.

"You probably got sand over everything." Clarke complained-brow furrowed-when Lexa returned.

Lexa scoffed. "Inconsiderate bitch, right?" she muttered and seized Clarke's forearm to guide her up the beach access path.

Clarke winced. "No, that's-sorry. I'm sorry."

Lexa shrugged easily.

"Where are you taking me?" Clarke wondered, now wary that maybe she shouldn't be following a complete stranger around. Lexa was calm and confident, and it was comforting, but she could also be psychotic.

"Hot water."

Clarke side-eyed her as they walked down the path between a condo complex and a parking lot. "Where's the hot water?"

"This way." Lexa bit her cheek. She'd just met Clarke and she already enjoyed riling her up.  
Clarke balked as they hit the road that ran parallel to the beach. "Look, I'm sure you just want to help, but I'm not getting into a car with you."

Lexa rolled her eyes and turned them down the sidewalk. She noticed Clarke's face was growing redder and her walk slower. She put an arm around the smaller woman's shoulders.

"I'm not putting you in a car."

"Then where are we-"

"Right here." Lexa interrupted, striding purposefully into a gravel parking lot.

Clarke looked around. There was a restaurant in front of her. Bright blue wooden slats with white borders, some kind of beach café. Connected to that was a slightly taller, dark wooden-slatted building with a bright yellow face and trim. There was a small sign that read Jupiter Surf, a bench out front, several surfboards leaning against the wall, and a rack of drying wetsuits.

Lexa led them around the side of the building and through a squeaky yellow door into the back of the surf shop. She propped her board up next to a faded green couch and watched Clarke take in her surroundings.

It smelled like salt, seawater. Maybe rubber from wetsuits. The walls were green and fading fast and the room was small and airy. There were a couple comfortable chairs around the couch, board wax and playing cards on the coffee table, fridge and microwave in the corner.

There was sand in every crevice.

"Do you-are we allowed to be in here?" Clarke whispered.

Lexa chuckled. "I'm pretty sure, yeah."

Clarke limped a bit further into the room, and Lexa took her hand and pulled her through another doorway. They walked down a short hallway, through a bathroom, and ended at an outdoor shower.

Lexa fiddled with the water temperature while Clarke put her hands on her knees and breathed deeply.

"That's…useful, I guess. Having a shower here." Clarke mused, watching the water run down the drain.

Lexa directed the stream away from Clarke while it heated. "We're a surf shop. Of course we have a shower."

"We? So this-this is yours? You own this place?"

How had Lexa known that Clarke would latch onto that? She smiled and shrugged. "Little bit."

Clarke scoffed. "Little bit. What does that even mean?"

"It means get over here and stand under the hot water before I send you back to the beach."

Clarke opened her mouth to argue, but the pain was reaching critical levels and she thought she might actually be sick, so she shuffled over obediently. Lexa took her shoulders and turned her gently until the hot water sprayed directly onto the affected area. She ran her fingers lightly down Clarke's thigh, feeling for welts, and Clarke shivered at the cool touch.

Lexa straightened up and met Clarke's gaze.

"Now just stand here for twenty minutes, okay? The pain should start to subside." Lexa turned to walk away, biting her tongue when Clarke sputtered behind her.

"What-how-where are you going? Are you leaving me here? By myself?"

"Yes?" Lexa raised an eyebrow.

Clarke pouted. "Well, when-how will I know when it's been twenty minutes? I don't have a watch."

"Use the sun." Lexa suggested sagely.

Clarke stared, trying to figure out if she was joking.

Lexa finally smirked. "I'm just going to get you something to wear. Simmer down, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke watched Lexa walk away, mouth hanging open. "I never told you my last name!" she called, but Lexa was already through the door.

Maybe she'd finally recognized Clarke. Maybe she'd known her all along. A-list superstar, Broadway diva, Clarke Abigail Griffin. At least it didn't seem to impact Lexa's treatment of her.  
She was probably sarcastic and frustratingly vague with everybody.

Clarke stood under the hot water and sighed repeatedly, glad that the pain seemed to be fading. The sting marks became more distinct, until they looked like a violent red web. Like a net that Clarke had wrapped from her thigh to her calf.

She breathed deeply and pressed her palms into her eyes. She could feel a headache coming. She stood by herself under the hot spray for at least ten minutes.

"Are you alright?" Lexa asked, concerned. She leaned against the doorway and studied Clarke carefully.

Clarke smiled wryly. "That took longer than you said."

"I called the lifeguard tower. They're red-flagging the beach for man 'o war."

"I don't know what that means."

Lexa stepped forward and switched off the water. She held clothes in one hand and examined Clarke's welts with the other.

"It means no swimming, Miss Griffin. Dangerous waters."

"Oh." Clarke's voice was small.

"Do you feel alright?" Lexa queried, tracing her eyes over Clarke's thigh. Very thoroughly. She tried to ignore the soaked, navy blue bikini bottoms. "Do you need a hospital? Or will you be okay if you just lie down? I have cream to put on it, and Benadryl."

Clarke smiled at the flush on Lexa's cheeks. "I asked you before, how do you know all this if  
you're not a lifeguard?"

"Who says I'm not a lifeguard?"

Clarke frowned. "You did?"

"Did I?" Lexa feigned confusion, thoroughly amused with this new person. "Clarke, tell me, do you need a hospital or not?"

"Hey, Lex." A mesy head of hair poked around the doorway, easy grin directed at Lexa's back.

"How's the waves?"

"Flat and crap." Lexa answered without turning around. She handed Clarke a towel and some clothes.

The guy caught sight of Clarke and his eyes brightened. He stepped fully around the doorway and waved hello. "Have you kidnapped another one?" He directed at the back of Lexa's head. "Lex, you gotta stop dragging pretty girls home."

"Shut it, Boris."

Clarke fidgeted, uncomfortable in her bikini now. Lexa noticed and stepped in front of her, and then turned around.

"Bellamy, get lost." She flicked water at him and he opened his mouth as if to catch it.

"Wait, you have to introduce me." He implored.

Lexa heaved an annoyed sigh. She advanced on Bellamy until she could fist the front of his t-shirt. "Clarke, Bellamy. Bellamy, Clarke." She bit out, pushing Bellamy back through the doorway.

Bellamy grinned and laughed and pried her fingers off his shirt. "Just Bell, Clarke! It's nice to meet you!" he shouted. He walked backwards down the hall and pointed at Lexa.

"Lexa, I got two sixes done this morning." He informed, slightly more seriously. "I just need to seal 'em and find some fins."

"Do what you have to do. Twin-fins." Lexa instructed shortly. "Look in the box under the register."

Bellamy reached the end of the hall and smirked. "She's pretty, Lex." he drawled, and then stepped up through the door before she could jump him.

Lexa ground her teeth and back-tracked to the shower.

Clarke was still standing uncertainly in a little puddle of water, clothes clutched in one hand.

"Sorry." Lexa muttered, tapping her thighs. "He's actually harmless."

Clarke raised her eyebrows. "Well. At least I know your name is actually Lexa."

Lexa cut her eyes to Clarke's. "Are you going to change anytime soon? Or do you wanna stand outside half-naked for the rest of the day?"

"No need to be rude, Lex." Clarke's eyes sparkled.

Lexa rolled her eyes and spun on her heel. "Holler if you pass out, Clarke Griffin!" she called over her shoulder. She walked back to the lounge and cleared a tangle of surfboard leashes off the green couch. Then she located some hydrocortisone cream and Benadryl, and set them on the coffee table next to a glass of water.

She finally grabbed her board and the wax off the coffee table and settled into the worn leather chair next to the couch. She set to work, humming while waxing the deck.

"I bet they're his shorts, right?"

Clarke's voice broke into her thoughts, and Lexa twisted around to see her stepping into the lounge. She was in faded swim shorts and a Jupiter Surf t-shirt.

"Excuse me?" Lexa quirked an eyebrow.

"The lifeguard shorts. Are they Bellamy's?"

Lexa hummed. Tiny little circles, she told herself. Focus on the tail, where her left foot had been slipping recently.

Clarke moved to sit on the couch. "Can I have a straight answer, please?" she asked sardonically. "Just one."

Lexa propped her bare feet on the coffee table. "What's the question?"

Clarke grinned. "Are you a lifeguard or not?"

Lexa tipped her head back and forth, weighing her options and observing Clarke's reaction. As expected, blue eyes rolled and sparkled with quiet laughter. Lexa bit her cheek.

"It's not a hard question." Clarke pressed.

"I am not currently a lifeguard, no." Lexa informed, back to her waxing.

Clarke opened the tube of cream and started carefully applying it to the stings. She winced every time her finger made contact. "Are you from here?" she wondered absently.

Lexa's eyes flickered over. "I don't think either of us is from here."

"Where are you from?" Clarke questioned.

"What are you doing here?" Lexa deflected. She rubbed her wax over the rails. Tiny little circles.

"I'm…taking a break." Clarke answered carefully.

Lexa nodded but didn't respond.

"And…since you know who I am, I'd appreciate if you didn't tell anybody."

Lexa shrugged. "I don't know who you are."

Clarke frowned. "But you knew my last name."

"You told me."

"No, I didn't!"

Lexa ran her tongue over her teeth and focused on not laughing. She looked up and met Clarke's eyes, serious expression fixed on her face. "Simmer down, Clarke Griffin. I won't tell anybody."

Clarke's mouth opened and closed. She put the cream back on the table, opened the Benadryl, and settled back into the couch, scowling.

"Take a nap, Clarke." Lexa glanced up from her board. "Get your head on straight. The headache and dizziness will go away soon."

Clarke stared hard at her.

"I won't leave you alone." Lexa added, in a softer tone because she could see the angry red lines on Clarke's thigh and knew how painful they were.

The corners of Clarke's lips pulled up slightly. "I don't know if I believe you."

Lexa ignored her and resumed humming. It was like a dog and a whistle. Clarke sat forward, eyes bright and alert, and Lexa observed this new behavior curiously.

"Dean Martin." Clarke declared, almost surprised. She watched Lexa's toes tap the coffee table and traced her eyes up well-muscled thighs past red shorts to Lexa's face.

Lexa smiled slightly.

"You're-that's a classic. You have good taste. Musical taste, at least."

"Take a nap, Clarke Griffin." Lexa rolled her eyes.

Clarke seemed more willing to comply now that she'd decided Lexa wasn't some kind of uncultured, pothead surfer. She huffed quietly and lay down with her head on the arm, mussing up her curly wet hair.

Lexa watched out of the corner of her eye. Tiny, tiny circles, focus on the tail, no more slipping.

* * *

Clarke woke up and rolled over and whined at the immediate throbbing pain in her thigh. She pressed her face against the back of the couch and waited for the nausea to pass. There was a light blanket draped over her, which definitely hadn't been there when she'd fallen asleep.

"There's a bucket on the floor." Lexa said lowly, across the room.

Clarke turned over as slowly as possible and blinked her eyes open.

Lexa winced sympathetically. She was sitting on the floor, wearing glasses and nursing a beer and dealing with an abundance of spreadsheets. "And there's Aspirin and water." She added. "Don't hurl on my couch."

"It didn't hurt this much before." Clarke whined.

Lexa stood up and nodded. "The shock's worn off. Man 'o wars are bad, Clarke. You're lucky you didn't need a hospital."

Lexa was still keeping an eye on Clarke's neck, making sure nothing was swelling up, no full-body rash forming. She hadn't totally ruled out taking Clarke to the hospital, but there was no need to worry her. She crossed the room and pulled the blanket away from Clarke, and then sat on the couch by Clarke's knees.

"It's not…too swollen." She observed quietly, brushing her fingers over the long, winding welts.

Clarke shivered and tensed at the touch, and Lexa moved her hand away.

"And it's not-you know-violently red." Lexa caught Clarke's gaze. "You'll probably have a rash for a week, and then-I mean-hopefully the stings won't leave scars."

Clarke nodded.

Lexa stared at her for another second, and Clarke moved her hand self-consciously up to her humidity and salt-water-curled hair. Lexa smiled slightly and stood up again.

Clarke sat up and eyed the red web on her thigh. "What time is it?"

"Five. You talked a little in your sleep." And if Lexa was being honest, it was charming.

"Somniloquy." Clarke smiled. "I'm a very verbal person."

"Yeah. Noticed that."

Clarke exhaled sharply and looked around the room for her stuff.

"Under the coffee table." Lexa supplied, foraging through the fridge for something to eat. Her employees were wolves who cleaned her out when she stocked up on any kind of food with the slightest appeal. She emerged with a cheese stick and held it up for Clarke, unsurprised when Clarke shook her head.

Clarke cleared her throat and ran a hand through her wildly curled hair. "I guess I'll…How far did we walk? Can I walk back to my hotel from here?"

"I're wog you 'ome." Lexa said around a mouthful of cheese.

Clarke stared at her.

"S'not far." Lexa added.

"You don't have to do that, really." Clarke assured. She stood up and waited for the room to stop spinning before gathering up her things. "Thank you for everything."

Lexa rolled her eyes and shoved the rest of the cheese stick into her mouth. She crossed the room and took the bag off Clarke's shoulder, and then gestured for Clarke to follow her. They went out the side door, right into the warm, thick air of early evening, and Lexa strode purposefully across the gravel parking lot to the sidewalk.

Clarke hurried to keep up. "Really, Lexa, you don't have to do this."

"Clarke, if you go alone and get yourself kidnapped between here and your hotel, I'm the last one who saw you alive. I can't have that on my conscience."

Clarke nearly walked into a light pole.

"Head on straight, Clarke Griffin?"

"I'm…yes, fine."

Lexa smiled to herself and slowed down to Clarke's pace.

"How long have you lived here?" Clarke wondered, eyeing Lexa's bare feet. Lexa seemed like an easy presence-a toes in the sand, surfing on a hot night kind of girl. Wise, constantly amused green eyes tinged with sadness. But she was so evasive about everything that Clarke would never know.

Lexa shrugged. "Years."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Well…I like your shop. It's charming."

Lexa narrowed her eyes suspiciously. Flattery would get Clarke nowhere. She'd built a wall against it many years ago, and accepted nothing from anybody on the other side.

"It is what it is."

"Your non-answers are annoying." Clarke stated bluntly.

Lexa ignored her.

"Are you-I don't think you're married, unless you're the new age type who doesn't wear a ring? Do you have a boyfriend? A partner?"

"Do you?" Lexa shot back.

Clarke sputtered, not really expecting that and having no idea how to answer it. She skipped to the next question. "Where are you from originally?"

"Candyland." Lexa drawled.

Clarke assumed that wasn't a valid answer. "Do you like Jupiter?"

"Nothing beats Candyland, Clarke."

"How long have you been surfing?"

Lexa turned them up the drive to Clarke's hotel and glanced down at Clarke's thigh, making sure it wasn't flaming up from the walk.

"How long have you been acting?" she countered, and then cursed herself internally. Stupid, stupid. Keep to tiny little circles.

Clarke gasped with success. "See! I knew you knew who I was! I knew I never told you my last name!"

Lexa moved through the automatic doors into the hotel lobby. It was large and vaulted and airy, and she glanced around at the well-dressed staff and marble fixtures.

"Fancy." She mouthed, uncomfortable in her bare feet.

Clarke glanced at her toes and smiled up at her.

"So…get some ice." Lexa instructed. "I'm sure one of these…dapper young folk can help you with that. Ice your leg for the pain, then do Aspirin if ice isn't enough. If some kind of horrible rash forms, or your leg falls off or something, go to the hospital. Red flags should be gone by tomorrow if you want to swim; they never stay up long."

Clarke nodded along. "Thank you, Lexa. I don't know anybody here, so just-thank you for everything."

Lexa nodded uncomfortably. She ran a hand through her hair and rocked back on her heels, already shuffling slowly towards the doors.

"Keep your head on straight, Clarke Griffin. Enjoy your stay."

Lexa left with a smile and a wave, and breathed a sigh of relief when her feet hit the warm pavement outside.

* * *

 

 and here's the proof of consent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original fic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8818337/2/Ain-t-That-a-Kick-in-the-Head  
> written by: iamapanda on ffn or elly-bells on tumblr


	2. Chapter 2

Bellamy leaned over the counter next to the register and watched Lexa glue together a traction pad that had come off the tail of his shortboard that morning. He rolled a hacky sack in his hand and tapped it against the counter.

"You know, you can just have a new one." Lexa mumbled, brow furrowed.

Bellamy shrugged. "You're not exactly Ron Jon's here."

"And thank fucking God for that." Raven emerged from the back room with an overflowing pile of spring suits in her arms. She dumped them on the counter next to Lexa and panted loudly.

Lexa ignored her. "This is pretty shoddy." She admitted, running her fingers along the glue job. She knew it would come apart right down the middle. Bellamy liked to carve up the crests like an agile little rabbit.

"If it comes off again, I'll stick it back on."

Lexa nodded, satisfied. "You're an easy man, Boris."

"And it's disgusting." Raven added absently. She was now checking all the tags on the wetsuits and sorting them by size. Child sizes on the back of Lexa's chair, adult sizes draped over the counter.

"Do you really need to do that in here?" Lexa irritably elbowed a small pile out of her way.

"Lincoln went for coffee. I need entertainment."

Bellamy brightened. "Oh, hey, Lexa had a girl here yesterday!"

Lexa shut her eyes. Raven locked right onto her target. A dog with a bone, a baby with a rattle.

"Did she?" she proclaimed, smiling at Lexa. "Who was she? Was she cute, Bellamy?"

Bellamy grinned. "Oh yeah, man."

Lexa grumbled to herself. She was getting glue on her fingers like a kindergartener with an art project. Stupid moron employees. She never should have hired these people

"That's good, Lex. Little baby's growing up. You should go on some dates, meet some more girls."

"Get lost." Lexa muttered.

"Lexa doesn't do random girls." Bellamy supplied helpfully.

Raven scoffed. "Lexa doesn't do any girls. Lookin' for love, right Luthor?"

"Shut the hell up." Lexa bit out without looking up. She dug her fingers into the traction pad to see if the glue had dried yet.

Raven chuckled. "Seriously, who was the girl?"

"Her name was Cla-"

"She's nobody." Lexa interrupted sharply, seizing the hacky sack from Bellamy's grasp before he could blink. "She tripped over my surfboard, called me an inconsiderate bitch, and then got herself stung by a man 'o war. Now get back to work."

She tossed the hacky sack into the adjoining section of the shop, where surfboards were lined up in long, close rows like bookcases, and Bellamy chased eagerly after it. Lexa tapped her fingers along her thigh.

Raven sighed. Lexa could feel her gaze on the side of her head. She ground her teeth and looked up, if only to tell Raven to get lost. Raven's stare didn't waver.

"The last one told me I was a head case." Lexa said lowly, eyebrow quirked. She was actually surprised that it came out of her mouth and she flushed slightly. "I-that's-I don't need that."

"She wasn't totally wrong."

"Just…fuck off." Lexa said without any real malice.

Raven smiled and started picking through the wetsuits again. "Maybe one day. If it's any consolation, I don't think you're completely crazy. Even when you don't wear shoes and dress like a goddamn hobo."

"Well, doesn't that make me all fuzzy inside."

Lexa peeled a layer of glue off her palm and wondered when she could hit the beach again.

* * *

 

Clarke strolled past the pier and discreetly eyed the people in the water from under her wide-brimmed, straw sunhat. She had nothing with her this time-not even her phone-but she had no plans to go in the water. The glaring, unattractive web of red lines on her thigh was warning enough.

She walked because she had nothing better to do. Nothing to squash her curiosity.

Shortly past the pier, Clarke spotted a glimmering brunette head bobbing out in the water. Clarke smiled to herself and plopped right down in the sand, careful to keep her hat pulled low. She crossed her legs at the ankles, leaned back on her palms, and watched.

Lexa didn't seem to be doing much. Just lolling around in the swells, balancing on her surfboard underwater to keep herself entertained.

Maybe that was all a part of surfing. Clarke didn't know. She'd be bored out of her mind or caught in some kind of riptide by now.

Lexa started paddling abruptly, gliding right through the water and moving with the growing swell. She was a penguin. The wave broke-only about head high-and she dropped smoothly in, black rashguard pushed up and clinging wetly to her abdomen.

Clarke recognized the faded red shorts from the day before. Strong legs, full thighs crouched low as Lexa made a bottom turn. Her hair whipped around as she crossed the face, and then she slashed the lip of the wave and kicked out of the top before it turned into whitewater.

Clarke sat in the sand, wide-eyed, barely secure in her own grasp of the doggy paddle.

Lexa paddled quickly, powered by the familiar adrenaline rush. She wanted to get one last ride on this set before the daily summer storms moved in. Everything was breaking so beautifully and cleanly, and she couldn't help but smile.

The last wave was the biggest, and Lexa carved up the face and tagged the lip simply before riding it all the way in. She bailed when she hit the whitewater and let it carry her the rest of the way. Then she tucked her board easily under her arm, shook out her hair, and jogged up the beach.

"Hey Clarke Griffin." She called, smiling. "Nice hat."

Clarke flushed and got nonchalantly to her feet, taking care to brush every grain of sand from her dress and legs. When she looked up, Lexa was standing right in front of her. Chest heaving lightly, rashguard clinging in all the right places, shorts twisted a little to the side.

"How's your leg?" Lexa asked breathlessly, dropping her eyes to Clarke's thigh.  
Clarke struggled to find words. "I-it hurts a bit. Like a burn, sort of."

"No dizziness or anything? Fallen down any stairs?"

"No." Clarke laughed.

While Lexa bent to observe Clarke's fading welts, Clarke's eyes landed on Lexa's legs. She was surprised to find several scars-one large, running from her left thigh to her calf, and countless others, jagged and criss-crossing and barely visible in the sun.

Clarke quickly diverted her eyes to Lexa's surfboard. She jumped when cold fingers pressed against her leg.

"Sorry." Lexa said quickly. "Checking for numbness."

"Oh, I-yeah, I don't think-I mean, I can feel everything." Clarke babbled.

Lexa tipped her head. "Then I can say with certainty that you'll live, Clarke. Stick it in your memoir someday. Have a nice afternoon."

Lexa started walking while Clarke was stuck on the word "memoir." She wondered how much Lexa knew of her.

"Wait!" she entreated, bouncing up next to Lexa.

Lexa side-eyed her and smiled when she realized Clarke hadn't brought any belongings.

"How long had you been sitting there?" she wondered, amused.

Clarke scoffed. "I'll answer no further questions of yours until you answer mine."

Somehow Lexa doubted that would last long.

"Let me take you to lunch." Clarke suggested, walking close enough to Lexa that her giant sunhat was dislodged by Lexa's shoulder.

"Just as a thank you. You can shower-or do whatever you do-" Clarke waved a hand vaguely through the air and Lexa bit her cheek, "And I'll go back to my room and get those clothes you let me borrow so I can give them back."

"You don't need to give those back. We have hundreds."

"But…you'll let me buy you lunch?" Clarke checked hopefully.

It was a horrible, awful idea. A gateway to dangerous things.

"If I answer your question, you have to answer one of mine." Lexa challenged.

Clarke clapped her hands together and stumbled a little in the sand. Lexa stopped walking and stood in front of Clarke. She set her shortboard in the sand and rested her hands and chin on the nose of it, observing Clarke with a casually arched brow.

She looked so pleased. Lexa could probably snap her fingers and make her jump.

"What are you doing in Jupiter, Clarke Griffin?"

It was one of the few questions Clarke couldn't answer completely. Her eyes flickered from Lexa's steady gaze to the pier in the background.

"I'm taking a break." She said slowly. "In…another world, sort of."

"Why?"

She really couldn't answer that one. Lexa's lips were twitching like she wasn't expecting her to anyway.

Clarke smiled. "So where are we going for lunch?"

* * *

Lexa sat across from Clarke-hair damp and loose in a button down shirt and rolled up pants-in a booth at the café next to her shop. She'd suggested the place mostly so that she wouldn't have to walk anywhere else. A good surf session always left her with aching legs and shortness of breath.

She ran a hand through her hair to stop it from dripping onto her shoulders and stared patiently at Clarke.

Clarke examined the menu carefully. Nothing really jumped out at her. Burgers, sandwiches, chicken fingers-nothing she could eat.

"The cheddar bacon burger's nice." Lexa remarked, watching for Clarke's reaction.

Clarke visibly blanched, and Lexa's lips tipped up, intrigued.

"I think the-I think I'll have the house salad." Clarke stated. She daintily folded up the worn menu and met Lexa's curious gaze.

"I don't think you want the house salad."

Clarke opened her mouth.

Lexa ran a hand through her wet hair again and leaned forward. Clarke spied a small silver cross dangling in the opening of her shirt.

"What's your favorite food, Clarke?"

"I…I like Italian food." She answered, obviously suspicious.

Of course she'd pick one of the two things this place couldn't provide. Lexa was stumped for only a moment. She lifted her hand and hailed the owner of the little café over.

"Hey Lexa!" the woman greeted, and Clarke was struck by her blue eyes.

Lexa smiled. "Octavia, how are you?"

"Oh, you know," Octavia drawled, winking at Clarke, "burning things, feeding the masses. Lost a pen this morning and found it in an omelet. I'm sure Tubby put it there."

"So it goes." Lexa nodded sagely.

Octavia pulled out her pen and tapped it enthusiastically on the table.

"I'll have my usual please, Octavia, with a strawberry shake, and my-this is Clarke, by the way."  
Lexa paused and remembered her manners.

Octavia nodded and waved down at Clarke.

"For her-do you remember that zesty Italian pasta thing you made for me once? It had, like…carrots in it, served cold, lots of flavor."

Octavia hummed delightedly. "It's unforgettable, Lex."

"Yeah, can she have that, please?"

"Of course she can!" Octavia nodded happily and walked backwards and pointed her pen at Clarke. "Coming right up, sweetie."

Clarke chuckled. She was certainly enthusiastic. The whole place was nice, sort of tucked away with the same feel as Lexa's shop. Squeaky floorboards, sun-bleached paint, clean and worn and saltwater-scented.

Lexa picked shiny bits of sand off her forearm and decided that she needed to be more thorough in her showering from now on.

"I didn't mean to make it difficult. I'm-I'm vegan. I mean, I've had to resort to vegetarian options while I've been here and I don't mind at all, and I'd still-I'd be absolutely fine with a salad."

Lexa sat back in the booth, tipped her head-eyes smiling-and let Clarke babble.

"I'm trying not to be a…nuisance."

Clarke had made a conscious decision before she left to keep to herself from now on. One small circle. She was already toeing the line.

Lexa's gaze never wavered.

Clarke fidgeted-God, she needed to control her rambling-and then glanced under the table and smiled slightly.

"Do you ever wear shoes?"

Lexa bobbed her head vaguely and shifted until her feet were propped on the seat next to Clarke. Clarke observed them like they were flea-ridden stray cats and lifted the rolled up hem of Lexa's green pants to lower them back down.

Lexa sighed like she was being put out. She gazed at Clarke again, having been interrupted when she was trying to gauge her reaction before.

At first thought, it seemed like Clarke would revel in the attention. Lexa liked to experiment.

"You must have a car, right? Do you drive barefoot? Do your grocery shopping with no shoes on?"

"I have shoes." Lexa shrugged.

"But do you _wear_ them?"

Lexa sat forward and rested her chin in her hand, eyebrow raised.

Clarke faltered slightly. "What is-is that an answer?"

Lexa had to work to keep a straight face.

Clarke glanced around uncomfortably. She was all too aware of her curly, humid hair-she'd lost control of that the second she landed in Florida-and the slight red burn over her cheeks.

She wasn't wearing make-up and she tucked her unruly hair behind her ears self-consciously.

"I know I don't-I know I look bad right now. I'm not always so unprepared."

Lexa frowned, surprised. She watched Clarke play with the salt shaker.

"You're not the girl from the movies." She mused.

God dammit. Lexa shook her head as soon as it came out of her mouth. Clarke's eyes lit slightly at the thought that Lexa had seen her perform.

"What does that mean?" Clarke asked hesitantly.

Lexa contemplated just shutting up, but Clarke's eyes were wide-like Lexa could knock her down with a single word-so she couldn't just ignore the girl.

Lexa shrugged, playing it down. "Curls suit you, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke smiled and shook her head. "Why do you do that?"

Lexa lifted a brow.

"You use my full name."

"Memory problems. Exposure therapy. I have to keep repeating it."

Clarke laughed loudly. "You're such a liar."

Lexa was stuck on that unexpected sound. Her eyes widened slightly, her lips quirked, her heart beat a little quicker. She realized she was staring at Clarke's mouth-full, pink lips-and shook herself out of her reverie.

Their food came-with a flourish and extra pickles from Octavia-and Lexa dug in. Clarke followed suit once she realized that Lexa ate like a wolf and would probably be finished quickly.

Lexa snuck glances to make sure Clarke was enjoying her food, not just forcing it down to prevent herself from being a "nuisance." Clarke ate intently, thoughtfully, and about halfway through her plate of pasta she looked up at Lexa with challenging eyes.

"I'd like you to hire me, Lexa. Give me a job in your shop."

Lexa's mouth hung open dumbly.

"I can provide a résumé of course-though I have to admit I've never delved into retail before-and I can give you phone numbers for references if you'd like. I am a very fast learner, Lexa, and a more competent than average person."

Lexa put her burger down slowly and wiped her hands on a napkin. "Where-how long have you been thinking of that?"

"About five minutes."

Clarke sat forward abruptly like maybe she shouldn't have answered with that. "Not that I'm an overly impulsive person. I'm actually very reliable."

Admittedly, she was leaning more towards spontaneity these days.

"And you just…want me to give you a job." Lexa clarified, eyebrow raised.

She was actually mulling it over. Bellamy was busy shaping boards these days and she wouldn't be able to run the shop with only Lincoln and Raven when the Jupiter Pro-Am surf contest hit town.

Clarke bit her lip and searched Lexa's face. "I can commit to two months."

A thought occurred to Lexa. She narrowed her eyes. "If you want to work, why don't you just go home?"

"I don't-I'm not ready yet." Clarke admitted, swirling a straw around her glass. "It's more about having a distraction than working. All there is to do here is go to the beach, and I think I'm going to stay out of the water for a while."

Lexa shook her head. "You need to get right back on that horse, Clarke Griffin."

"How about you give me a job and teach me to surf instead of paying me?" Clarke suggested on a whim. It would be another talent to add to her résumé, and she smiled to herself, pleased with the idea.

Lexa tapped her thighs, smirking slightly at the thought of teaching Clarke to surf.

She calmly picked up her burger and took a bite, eyes purposely focused anywhere but on  
Clarke. She chewed slowly and gave nothing away in her expression while she mulled everything over.

Again, it was a horrible, awful idea, and nowhere near close to tiny little circles. Lexa considered the logistics, the hours, Raven's antagonistic tendencies and Bellamy's big mouth. It came down to the fact that the Jupiter Pro-Am packed her shop every year and she needed people to run it-something Clarke would apparently do for free.

"It's not, like…hanging out on the beach every day." Lexa warned, hand over her mouth.

Clarke nodded quickly.

"It's sandy, tedious sometimes, lots of paperwork. Maybe heavy lifting if I put you on inventory or with the boards."

Lexa had already made her decision. She watched Clarke's behavior, amused.

"And all I have to do is teach you how to surf?"

Clarke hummed eagerly. "You don't even have to be successful at it. Just try."

Lexa chuckled and shook her head. She reached for her milkshake. "Fine, Clarke Griffin.  
Tomorrow, eight a.m. Don't be late."

Clarke's delighted laughter bubbled up and Lexa hid her mouth behind her strawberry shake.

* * *

"You got a job? Clarke, you make seven figures a year!"

"It's not because I need it, Harper." Clarke said earnestly. She sat on her bed and held the phone with one hand so that she could apply cream to her fading sting marks with the other. She was making a nice mess of it all.

"It's just to occupy my time. You know I enjoy trying new things."

Harper made some kind of disgruntled hum.

"And it's with people who-they aren't Hollywood people. They're not in show business, they're not performers. It will be a nice experience."

"You don't even know this woman's last name, sweetie."

It was something Clarke had realized when she'd reached her hotel. Probably a major oversight, unless Lexa had done it purposely. Left her in the dark. Clarke wouldn't be surprised.

"That just screams illegal." Harper pressed.

Clarke smudged ointment in her hair and sighed in frustration. "I will find out her last name."

"Good. Great. Now what else do you know about her?"

She doesn't wear shoes, she's fond of sarcasm, she has a perfect smile and wise eyes and a shop as charming as she is. Clarke thought of the scars she'd seen, Lexa's non-answers.

"Why don't you come and visit me and you can see for yourself?" Clarke deflected.

Harper was silent for a moment. Clarke took the opportunity to walk to the bathroom mirror and wipe the cream out of her hair.

"Do you-are you serious?" Harper finally asked. "I can come visit? I've never been to Florida before."

"Of course you can. It's not you I was trying to get away from."

"Well…I might just do that." Harper sounded much brighter than she had when Clarke had first answered the phone. "And speaking of Miller- won't stop calling me. Have you talked to him yet?"

"Absolutely not. He needs to settle down before we have this discussion."

"So you still haven't told anybody why you left. You know he's your friend as well as your manager, right?"

Clarke screwed the cap on the ointment with one hand and tossed the smudged, messy tube in the sink. She fanned her leg absently because it was still a little warm. "I know."

Clarke knew Harper was waiting for some kind of explanation. She really didn't want to give her one at the moment.

"Harper, I need to say goodnight now. I have to be at the shop by eight."

"Clarke Griffin working at a surf shop." Harper chuckled. "What if people recognize you?"

"I will jump off that bridge when I come to it." Clarke said confidently.

It was only a matter of time. Clarke laid out her outfit and set her alarm. She'd keep her circle small and do what needed to be done. Head on straight, Clarke Griffin.

* * *

 and here's the proof of consent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original fic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8818337/2/Ain-t-That-a-Kick-in-the-Head  
> written by: iamapanda on ffn or elly-bells on tumblr


	3. Chapter 3

Clarke knocked on the side door of Jupiter Surf at 7:58 a.m. The air was warm and breezy, and she'd braided her hair to keep some semblance of control over it. She opened the yellow door and stepped hesitantly inside when nobody answered.

There were blankets on the green couch, like somebody had slept there, and Clarke recognized Lexa's surfboard-dripping wet and propped precariously against a crowded bookcase.

"Lexa?" Clarke called, moving towards the hallway. "Hello?"

She spied the bathroom Lexa had taken her through previously and two other doorways. One led to the shop floor, and Clarke peered into the other, surprised to find Bellamy lying on the floor with one eye closed, studying the surfboard in front of him.

"Bellamy." Clarke chirped and smiled when he looked up.

"There she is!" He proclaimed. He gestured for her to join him and she frowned in confusion and shuffled over to kneel by the surfboard. "Alright Clarke, you gotta tell me if this looks even. 'Cause I can sand it down more, but I don't wanna sand it too much, you know."

Clarke hummed like she did know. She furrowed her brow and studied the small board, not willing to lie completely flat like Bellamy because of the dress she was wearing.

"I mean I'll measure it when I'm done to be sure, but this is just like the first step."

"It-I mean, it appears even." Clarke offered hesitantly. "But I'm not really sure how you can even…tell. Obviously I'm not well-versed in this trade."

She tilted her head and frowned at the board, ignoring the sand digging into her knees.

"That's good, that's good." Bellamy nodded thoughtfully. He patted the board. "I think I'll do FCS for this. It's for a kid, so better not to glass in the fins, right? I used to reef mine off all the time."

Clarke nodded blankly. She stared at Bellamy's bobbing head. "You…reefed…what? Sorry, I'm not sure I-"

Bellamy glanced at her. "Oh yeah, of course!" He smiled and pushed himself up to his knees and pointed at the tail of the board. "You can either have glassed-on fins, which are permanent, or a fin control system, where the fins are removable. FCS is way more common now. You can smash up your tail in the reef without buying a new board each time."

Clarke nodded slowly, pleased that he was teaching her. Two minutes in and she'd already learned something.

"Is Lexa around?" she wondered, following suit when Bellamy stood up.

"In the shower, I think. Waves were breaking nice this morning."

"She's been surfing already?" Clarke was an early riser, but she couldn't fathom rolling out of bed before the sun to jump in the ocean.

Bellamy laughed and led her through the hallway to the shop floor. "Four a.m., dude. I don't even know if she sleeps."

"Does she live here?"

Bellamy bobbed his head back and forth, crossing the crowded surfboard section of the shop to get to the register. "Technically she lives with me, but she's like a nomad, so just…wherever."

"Oh yeah, Lexa's a vagabond."

Clarke turned at the new voice. It belonged to a smiling tall, very muscular guy hanging wetsuit booties on the shop wall. He bounced forward and held out his hand.

"Hey, I'm Lincoln."

"Clarke." She smiled brightly, intent on good first impressions.

"Holy shit, that bitch."

Lincoln's smile fell.

"Raven." He scolded, in a way that made it sound like it was a frequent occurrence. His eyes were fixed over Clarke's shoulder. "Control yourself."

Raven stalked towards Clarke, having come through the front doors of the shop. Dancing dark eyes, chin held high, one hand on her hip. Clarke recognized the behavior and squared her shoulders, refusing to be intimidated.

"It's fucking Clarke Griffin. Do you dumbasses not recognize her?" Raven stared incredulously at Bellamy and Lincoln.

Bellamy was the only one who looked legitimately surprised.

Clarke decided to interrupt. "I'd prefer not to- I'm just Clarke here. I'm not-I'm just here to work. That's it."

Raven narrowed her eyes. Her gaze drifted away from Clarke. "Woods, you sneaky little…"

"Why are you all clumped together like vultures?" Lexa appeared, eyebrow raised. She walked out of the surfboard area in a Jupiter Surf t-shirt and the same rolled up pants. She was still shoeless, but her wet hair was pulled back.

"Lincoln called you a vagabond." Bellamy tattled immediately.

Lexa smiled slightly and sat on a stool by a table of t-shirts. "Footloose and fancy-free."

"And Raven's a fan of Clarke's." Lincoln informed casually. He opened up a new box of booties to hang. "She owns all her movies. I had dinner at her house once and she said that Clarke Griffin was one of the few legitimately talented people in Hollywood."

Raven made a garbled noise of protest.

Clarke found herself smiling at her feet, suddenly shy.

"Shut it, Freyr!" Raven shouted from the register. Her cheeks were flushed-embarrassment or anger, Clarke couldn't be sure. Raven turned on Lexa. "What the hell is wrong with you, Lex? You can't at least mention that the girl's Clarke Griffin?"

Clarke watched Lexa calmly checking the tags on a stack of shirts.

"What? Who's Clarke Griffin?" Lexa asked without looking up.

Clarke smiled to herself.

Raven opened a magazine and faced the wall behind the register, arms folded. She was finished with them, apparently.

"I was going to give Clarke a tour." Bellamy announced proudly.

Lexa nodded and coughed a bit, hand over her chest. Raven spun around at the sound and watched her silently.

"There's not much to see." Lexa said, voice a little raspy.

"A verbal tour." Bellamy amended. He put an arm around Clarke's shoulders and pointed at the open front door. "This is a door. It's where the customers come from. We stick boards out there usually. We've got way too many to keep 'em all inside."

He swiveled to the left and pointed at the front desk. "There's the register. We have apparel and accessories in this room-you know, Jupiter Surf clothing, flip-flops, leashes, traction pads, all those goodies. And then the next one is the board room. All the boards are for sale, some new, some used."

Clarke nodded. Lexa caught her eye and flashed a smile.

"In the back we have the lounge, the stockroom, the bathroom, and the shaping room-where we were earlier."

"That's Boris' room." Lexa added. "Nobody else is allowed."

Bellamy grinned. "Your words, Woods."

"Is that your name?" Clarke asked.

Lexa caught Clarke's eye, pursed her lips, and nodded shortly. No denying it now. She stifled another cough and took a deep breath and went back to sorting the clothes. Clarke smiled triumphantly.

"Water?" Raven asked emphatically, staring hard at the back of Lexa's head.

"There's an ocean of it right in front of you." Lexa countered.

"Look, if you're gonna start your wheezy, raspy, cough-y stuff, you need to, like…get your ass back in bed or take some-"

Lexa twisted quickly and cut her eyes at Raven.

Raven shook her head seriously and held up her hands. Clarke observed the interaction. It was like a silent battle of wills, and she was completely in the dark. Bellamy sighed and patted Lexa's head and then took Clarke's hand.

"Come on. I'll show you how we re-stock."

* * *

Lexa ambled calmly along the beach and watched Clarke out of the corner of her eye. Clarke was obviously having problems dragging along the nine-foot soft-top surfboard, staggering sideways a bit and groaning under her breath, but trying to be discreet about it. Lexa paused for a second and picked up the tail of the board when Clarke passed.

She tucked that under one arm with her shortboard under the other.

"I can do it myself!" Clarke protested, trying to walk faster to get Lexa to drop the tail.

Lexa snorted slightly. "I'm sure you can. Slow down, Clarke."

"Why do I have to have a gigantic board?" Clarke whined. "I want a small one like yours."

"As you get better your board will get smaller."

Clarke tried to twist her head around to see Lexa while they walked, which sent them both staggering diagonally. Lexa shook her head and stopped walking until Clarke straightened up again.

"Why don't you decorate yours with stickers?" Clarke wondered. Lexa's board was white. It had three fins, wax on the deck, and a broad blue stripe going up the right side. There was a small black "C" design near the nose.

"It's fine how it is."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "What's the 'C' for?"

"Captain Underpants." Lexa said drolly, not missing a beat.

It was like bashing her head repeatedly into a wall. Clarke was gaining absolutely no information. She sighed and walked quietly until Lexa told her to stop. They were a bit further from the pier than where Lexa usually surfed. The outer break was flat, but the whitewater was strong and consistent, perfect for a beginner.

Lexa lined up their boards in the sand while Clarke pulled off her sundress, revealing a dark green bikini this time. Lexa tossed her a pink rashguard.

"I don't get to try a wetsuit?" Clarke was disappointed.

"Sure, if you want a heat stroke. Florida's too hot for them."

Clarke hummed and examined the article of clothing. "I like the pink." She murmured before pulling it over her head.

"You don't really need one for a foam board because they're so soft, but since it's your first time it would be pretty easy to make your belly raw. You don't need wax either, so we're skipping that step."

Lexa ran out of breath and coughed, and then wheezed when she inhaled.

Clarke bit her lip. "Are you alright?"

Lexa held up a hand. She pulled her t-shirt over her head, leaving her in short boardies and a blue bikini top. Clarke's eyes drifted lower-right over Lexa's sunny, toned abdomen-and then she blushed and swallowed and looked away. But she noticed more scars-a long straight one extending from Lexa's shoulder around her side to her belly button, and a few jagged ones against her ribs.

Clarke knew she'd get nothing if she inquired about them.

"Okay Clarke, this is a surfboard." Lexa crouched down next to her shortboard and looked up to make sure Clarke was paying attention. "Mine's a shortboard, yours is a foamie. It has a nose, a tail, a stringer down the middle, fins, and the sides are called rails. The leash is so when you bail or get rolled out the board doesn't go and knock anybody unconscious, okay?"

Clarke nodded smartly. "And the fins are either removable or glassed on." She recited.

Lexa looked up at her, impressed. "Bellamy?"

"He taught me this morning."

Lexa wasn't surprised. Bellamy liked sharing everything-smiles, surfboards, knowledge, food.

"Now, to practice the pop-up, you need to lie on the board, toes on the tail." Lexa watched Clarke get into position. She found she had to forcibly drag her gaze away from the backs of Clarke's thighs.

"Move your arms like you're paddling." Lexa demonstrated, still crouched by her own board. "And then grab the rails, push yourself into a push-up position, bring one leg up so that you're kneeling, and then stand up if you feel balanced enough to do so."

Clarke paddled her arms, mumbling to herself and frowning in concentration. Lexa smiled.

"So…push-up position, and then…" Clarke trailed off and glanced over at Lexa.

"And then one leg up in front of you, like you're in a lunge."

Clarke complied-pushing herself up until she was kneeling on the board-and looked at Lexa again for approval.

Lexa nodded. She had to clear her throat because Clarke's legs were toned and tan and stretched out, and mildly distracting. "Now do that twenty more times." She instructed.

Clarke was small and nimble, and Lexa had no doubt that she'd be able to pop-up quickly once she got the hang of the whole balance thing.

"How long have you been doing this?" Clarke asked, brow furrowed in concentration.

"A few years." Lexa shrugged.

"That's it?"

"That's it."

Clarke popped up for the fourth time. She decided that she'd practice in her hotel room because it mostly seemed like muscle memory. "Well…you definitely know what you're doing."

Lexa tipped her head. "I make it up as I go."

"How did you start surfing?"

"How did you start acting?" Lexa crossed her ankles and leaned back in the sand and watched Clarke pop up again.

Clarke grinned. "My parents discovered my gift when I was two months old, and I've been performing ever since."

Lexa chuckled, and then wheezed because her chest was getting tighter. Clarke paused mid-lunge to glance at her.

"Yeah, mine-my story doesn't go like that." Lexa coughed.

"Did you always want to open your own shop? Did you go to school?"

Lexa waited a moment before nodding slowly. "School, yes."

"Where did you go? What did you study?" Clarke sat on her board and shook out her arms. She decided that popping-up was more exhausting than she'd anticipated.

"Clarke Griffin. You are just…" Lexa trailed off and shook her head, not really sure what exactly Clarke Griffin was.

Clarke bit her lip and watched Lexa. She looked tired-lazily lounging in the sand-probably because she'd been up since four in the morning.

"You ready for the water?" Lexa asked. She sat up and crawled to where Clarke was sitting on the foam board, untangled the leash from the fins, and carefully velcroed it around Clarke's right ankle.

Her forearm brushed Clarke's calf- soft and warm and sandy. Clarke found herself flustered and flushing again.

"Your left foot goes first, which means you're regular footed." Lexa informed, standing quickly and wobbling with lightheadedness. "I'm goofy foot. My right foot is first."

Clarke chuckled. "Okay, goofy feet."

Lexa cut her eyes back to Clarke and led the way down to the water.

The first twenty minutes involved Clarke lying on the board, clinging to it for dear life while Lexa carefully pushed her so that she was catching whitewater waves. And then Lexa would stalk up to Clarke, grab the nose of the board, and pull her back out to do it again.

Once Clarke realized that she could control her speed and her direction, she started paddling to supplement Lexa's pushing.

"So your arms aren't completely useless." Lexa remarked when she noticed.

Clarke grew even more enthusiastic, rolling off her board after riding it in and then sloshing and swimming as quickly as she could back out to the thigh-high water. She attempted to pop up several times, and Lexa applauded whenever she managed to ride a wave in on her knees.

Lexa took to just floating around and watching, letting the small waves crash against the back of her legs. They were still sore from that morning. The whole day, really. It was a constant thing.

After almost an hour in the water, Clarke stood up on her board. She froze once she did it-afraid to shift at all-and clenched her fists and squealed loudly, hoping that Lexa was watching.

"Clarke Griffin, you're surfing!" Lexa called, voice raw. Her arms were in the air and her hair was slicked back, and she sloshed through the water to reach the shore where Clarke tumbled when she ran aground.

Clarke impulsively met her with a hug. She tripped on the leash, and then was yanked back towards the water when the tide carried the board away.

"Lexa! Can we-I want to do that again!"

Lexa held one of Clarke's arms to keep her from falling over. "Next lesson, surfer girl."

"I'm-I can't-that's amazing!"

Lexa chuckled at Clarke's giddiness. Her rash guard was stuck up around her belly and her eyes were red from the saltwater. Her laugh was loud and infectious.

"Sit down." Lexa instructed, dragging the foamie up onto the sand and gently pushing Clarke down next to it.

Clarke bounced. She couldn't contain herself.

Lexa sat down next to her, glad to rest her legs. It was only three in the afternoon and rain was on the way, but she figured they had time to dry in the sun before heading back to the shop.

* * *

"So…Griffin…What would you think of signing an autograph for my niece?"

Raven climbed out of the car, popped the trunk, and waited for Clarke to grab the two large boxes of apparel.

"I would be delighted!" Clarke enthused.

"And I'll need to take a picture because she'll want proof that it's really your signature."

Clarke clumsily heaved the boxes out of the trunk and balanced them on the bumper. She wrapped her arms securely around the bottom one and lifted, tipping sideways with the effort.

"I'd be happy to, Raven." She assured once she was stable.

Raven nodded shortly and shut the trunk. "Don't trip. You'll send shit flying."

Clarke struggled with her load-moving blindly because it was nearly dark-and wondered if Raven even had a niece. Raven led her through the yellow side door, but then stopped only a few feet into the room. Clarke ran into her back and decided to drop the boxes where she was standing. She straightened up, brushed off her hands, and settled them lightly on her hips.

Raven was staring at the couch where Lexa sat-feet propped right next to a wine bottle on the coffee table, eyes glassy, watching them serenely. Clarke was surprised to see she was wearing loosely tied canvas shoes. Sinatra's greatest hits were drifting from the radio.

"Lex." Raven ventured, eyes narrowed.

"Good evening." Lexa drawled. She tipped her head back to stare at the ceiling and chuckled at nothing.

And then she threw an arm over her mouth and coughed until her face turned red.

"Alright, we're going to the hospital." Raven declared.

Lexa wheezed and held up a hand. She tilted sideways across the couch.

"Save your breath, idiot." Raven strode over to the coffee table and moved the bottle so that Lexa wouldn't kick it over. "I knew this was happening. You wheezy, drunken moron."

"I am…none of those things." Lexa rasped. She lolled her head to the side and gazed at Clarke.

Clarke stood awkwardly next to the boxes of clothes. "You knew what was happening?" she asked Raven, unnerved by how still Lexa was.

"Lexa's a delightful merry-go-round of crazy." Raven grinned overly brightly. "This actually happens-"

"I got crashed by a car." Lexa said sagely.

Clarke gasped slightly.

"Nice phrasing, dummy." Raven chided, sitting on the coffee table to tie Lexa's shoes.

Lexa pursed her lips. "A car crashed me."

"Yeah, that's much better."

Clarke frowned, saddened and concerned. "I don't-you got in a car crash?"

"You told her?" Lexa exclaimed, kicking one of her shoes into Raven's ribs.

Raven seized her ankle and lowered it back down. "Nope. You did that all by yourself. Sit still and act like a grown up. And if you kick me again I'll beat you with your own surfboard."

"Raven. She doesn't know what she's doing." Clarke defended quietly, watching Lexa's eyes.

Lexa breathed shallowly, hand clutching her chest like she was having trouble with it. She coughed a few times and rubbed at her face.

Raven gripped Lexa's shoulders and pulled her to sit forward. She held her like that until Lexa caught her breath.

"She was in a wreck a few years ago." Raven said quietly, meeting Clarke's confused gaze. "She has chronic lung infections-anything where she turns into a wheezy mess-plus a whole shitload of other issues. Usually they pump her with antibiotics and she's fine."

Clarke nodded sadly. She watched Lexa tap her toes together on the coffee table.

"She turns into a goddamn idiot when it happens though." Raven continued, louder. "Prancing around all day, drinking and not telling anybody when she's suffocating in the middle of the night."

"Idiot." Lexa repeated absently.

"Yeah, you are."

Clarke worried her bottom lip between her teeth. "But she'll be okay?"

Raven nodded. She moved to stand up and tugged Lexa with her. Lexa swayed dangerously and laughed out loud, leaning heavily into Raven's side. Clarke smiled at the scene, despite the circumstances.

She was going to open the yellow door for Raven when a cat sauntered into the room from the hallway. Smoky gray with four white paws, Clarke almost jumped out of her skin at the sight of him.

"Oh my-I think you-I think you have a stray!" she announced, pointing at the animal.

Lexa turned, caught sight of the cat, and smiled widely. She surged away from Raven and walked relatively smoothly up to Clarke. Clarke put her hands up to gently slow Lexa's momentum, and Lexa stared down at her-glossy-eyed and far too close.

Lexa grinned. "Clarke Griffin, that's Mars. Mars is a cat."

Clarke recoiled slightly at Lexa's breath on her face. "Is that so?"

"Mars Bar." Lexa nodded and leaned further into Clarke like she'd made herself dizzy. "He's a cat. He lives here. We feed him cat food."

Raven rolled her eyes. "What kind of animal is he, Lex? I don't think Clarke caught that."

Lexa crouched down suddenly-arm held out towards the cat-and tipped into Clarke's leg. Clarke put a hand on her head to steady her. She glanced wide-eyed at Raven, who shrugged and laughed.

Lexa stood up with Mars in her arms and kissed his head.

"You wait for me, Clarke." Lexa said quietly, hugging the cat to her chest. She stared intently at Clarke, listing heavily to the side. "Stay here, okay. Ray's taking me to the hospital."

Clarke nodded and bit her cheek.

"You'll stay here?" Lexa's voice was low and raspy.

"I will."

Lexa nodded to herself. She looked down and seemed to realize she was still holding Mars. She smiled and shuffled closer to Clarke. "This is Mars cat."

"Oh my God." Raven muttered from the door. She crossed the room in two strides and seized Lexa's upper arm.

Lexa clumsily deposited Mars into Clarke's arms and trailed stiltedly after Raven.

"Stay right here, Clarke Griffin." She called. "I have to-I was a car crash. I'll see you-"

The door shut on Lexa's words. Clarke hugged Mars, not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. She laughed, and then dropped the cat and started picking up Lexa's blankets from the floor.

* * *

 and here's the proof of consent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original fic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8818337/1/Ain-t-That-a-Kick-in-the-Head  
> written by: iamapanda on ffn or elly-bells on tumblr


	4. Chapter 4

Clarke spent the next morning sorting through boxes of boogie board fins, sprawled out on the sandy pine floor of the inventory room. It wasn't until her lunch break that she was able to call her hotel and request a driver to take her to the hospital. She went with a bag of sweet potato fries and boiled peanuts-courtesy of a worried, earnest Octavia-because apparently they were Lexa's favorites.

And Clarke figured it would be criminal to take a cheddar bacon burger into a hospital. The place was surrounded by palm trees, airy and light, and Clarke took the elevator and easily found Lexa's room.

She only spent about five minutes shuffling about outside the door, nervously crinkling the bag of food and fully expecting Lexa to tell her to get lost.

She wouldn't be wanted here. They barely even knew each other. This was probably too personal.

But Clarke would be damned if she let Lexa sit in the hospital by herself. She breathed deeply and pushed open the door. Lexa groaned and sunk back into the pillows as soon as she walked in.

"I won't stay long!" Clarke rushed out before Lexa could say anything. She nervously patted down her sundress while Lexa eyed her. "I just thought I'd bring you some food. And see how you are."

She held up the bag of fries and peanuts like an offering.

"No, that's not-I wasn't…" Lexa looked amused. She shook her head. "You can stay."

Her voice was stronger, normal again. She was breathing evenly and deeply, still sun-tinted golden in the hospital bed, hair salty and tangled. Her cheeks were a little flushed, and Clarke smiled when she realized why.

"You don't have to be embarrassed, you know." She moved next to Lexa's bed and set the bag of food on her knees.

Lexa cut her eyes up. Clarke looked too pleased with herself.

"I know you told me to stay in the shop last night, but it just wasn't feasible. I got to know Mars Bar a little better though. He is certainly a delight."

Lexa sighed and lifted her knees so that the bag of food tumbled into her lap. She was glad the containers had lids on them.

"Do you remember last night?" Clarke pressed, settling into a chair by the bed.

Lexa pried the top off the sweet potato fries and visibly brightened. Clarke suppressed a smile.

"Memory problems, remember?" Lexa said absently.

"I think you remember. Your cheeks are pink."

Lexa shook her head and chewed her food, too hungry to be embarrassed at the moment. She took the top off the boiled peanuts with fries still in her mouth and her eyes lit up.

"Have they fed you?" Clarke wondered.

"Naw, iz shid."

Clarke carefully tossed a wad of napkins into the fray. "Swearing is unbecoming, goofy feet."

Lexa's eyes flashed up at her. "The food here is shit, Clarke Griffin. If you call me that again I'll wrap man 'o war tentacles around your legs while you sleep."

Clarke gasped. Her hand dropped immediately to the red marks on her thigh.

Lexa grinned and messily opened more boiled peanuts. She had the juice all over her hands so she used her shoulder to push her hair back when it fell in her face. Clarke leaned forward and tucked it behind her ear, even though she'd just been threatened.

Surely Lexa couldn't actually catch any jellyfish to drape over her in her slumber, right?

She sat quietly while Lexa ate, proud of herself for not asking about the accident or wreck or whatever it was that had stuck Lexa here and caused those scars.

"You went to work, right?" Lexa glanced at her. "Did Lincoln and Raven open the shop?"

Clarke shook her head solemnly. "They actually went out of business in the fourteen hours you've been here."

"Not surprised. You know I can fire you?" Lexa pointed a fry in Clarke's direction.

"I spent the morning sorting through twenty boxes of flippers, thank you very much."

"Fins, Clarke. They're called fins. Penguins have flippers."

Clarke tilted her head and committed that to memory. She realized Lexa had finished her peanuts and had no way to clean her hands, so she dug through her purse until she emerged with a Wet-Wipe. She stood up and lightly grabbed Lexa's wrist.

"Hold still." She instructed when Lexa tried to pull away.

"I can do it myself." Lexa protested. "Get lost."

Clarke ignored her and Lexa stopped squirming when she realized it was futile. She watched Clarke's face instead.

"Did anybody recognize you when you came up here?"

Clarke shrugged. "Maybe. But it would be in bad taste to approach me in a hospital, even though I welcome and adore all of my fans."

Lexa snorted softly and sat back when Clarke released her hands.

"Yale." Lexa said after eating a few more fries.

Clarke lifted her eyebrows.

"Where I went to school." Lexa waved a hand around. "You asked yesterday. It was Yale."

Clarke smiled slowly.

"I was a theatre studies major."

Clarke's smile vanished and her jaw dropped. "What-that's-oh my-Lexa, how could-what are you-"

"I was the lead in A Streetcar Named Desire my junior year." Lexa interrupted Clarke's stuttered mess.

Clarke stared.

"And, believe it or not, I'm not from Candyland. I'm from-" Lexa shook her head and blushed slightly, painfully aware that she knew too many things about Clarke Griffin. "-the same place as you, actually."

"Blanche or Stella?" Clarke blurted, stuck on the previous information.

"I was Blanche."

"Lexa!"

Lexa recoiled, unsure why Clarke suddenly seemed explosively angry.

"What are you doing running a surf shop in Florida?" Clarke asked, eyes wide. "That's-that's flabbergasting!"

Lexa frowned. "Is that a legitimate adjective? King's English? Or are you making up words?"

"Lexa!"

Lexa sighed and tipped her head back against the pillows. She'd barely convinced herself to answer those few questions. She was finished now.

"Did you graduate?" Clarke asked, much less manically. She was genuinely interested.

Lexa bit her tongue and shook her head.

"That's still…amazing." Clarke studied her. "I can't believe it. You were in-I just can't believe it."

"Bellamy calls me Ivy League shark bait."

Clarke bobbed her head. "It's probably because you call him Boris."

Lexa closed her eyes and discreetly wiped her still-greasy hands on the blanket. She could feel Clarke bursting with excitement, probably questions. Lexa must've been a performer-singing, dancing, acting. She might appreciate theater as much as Clarke. She was educated and gorgeous and dusted with sweet potato fry crumbs.

"One more question." Lexa mumbled, about ready to fall asleep. "Then you go make sure my shop isn't on fire."

Clarke sat forward eagerly. "I would love to inquire about your musical preferences, and whether or not they extend beyond 50s and 60s era Rat Pack classics, but I can save that for another day."

Lexa managed to roll her closed eyes.

"My question is one I've already asked before." Clarke didn't even need to think. The question was constantly there, and she continued when she saw that Lexa wasn't going to protest.

"Are you with anybody?" she asked tentatively, toes bouncing in anticipation. "Do you have a boyfriend, or…maybe a significant other?"

Lexa pursed her lips. Of course that was her question.

"It doesn't seem like you do." Clarke plowed on. "But it's-you know, I don't want to assume. You know what they say about that. I'm just curious. I know it's none of my business…"

Clarke trailed off and watched Lexa cautiously, ready to placate or apologize or flee if she saw Lexa's eyes flash.

"No." Lexa said simply. She evenly met Clarke's gaze.

Clarke smiled slightly. She was feeling a rush, far too excited for a hospital visit, probably because of all the theater talk. And she seemed to be experiencing an odd sense of triumph.

"Thank you for answering me." She said sincerely.

Lexa nodded and closed her eyes again.

Clarke stood up and stooped quickly to kiss Lexa's cheek-brushing dark brown hair out of the way. She grabbed the empty food bag and whirled on her heel. Lexa laid calmly, eyes shut, pretending her face wasn't bright red and tingling.

"See you soon, goofy feet." Clarke smiled from the door, and left the room before Lexa could catch her.

* * *

Lexa was released in the late afternoon. It was raining-hot rain, like she'd learned only Florida managed to pull off-and she shoved Bellamy away when he tried to hold a newspaper over her head on the short walk from his car to the shop door. Lexa's laces were untied and her t-shirt was twisted sideways, and she reached the door right as Lincoln stepped out of it.

"Perfect timing!" he declared, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her under cover.

Clarke stood behind him and smiled apologetically at Lexa.

"Those two boards up in Vero are ready. We have to go pick 'em up." Lincoln said brightly.

Lexa groaned and rubbed at her face.

Clarke frowned. She laid a hand on Lincoln's arm. "Why can't we-we can just go without Lexa, right?"

"No. No, no…no. You can't." Lexa mumbled.

"We went all the way up to Jacksonville last year to pick up a longboard, brought home the wrong one, and Lexa hasn't let us go by ourselves ever since."

Lexa scoffed and ducked out of Lincoln's hold. "Yeah, because you're all fucking morons."

She turned and stalked out to Lincoln's truck, ignoring the rain. She climbed into the backseat and slammed the door loudly.

Lincoln sighed at Clarke's worried expression. "Lexa doesn't drive." He said, like that would explain something.

"Ever?"

"Never." Lincoln gestured at Clarke to see if she was ready to run through the rain. Clarke nodded, and they waved goodbye to Bellamy and darted through the parking lot to the front seats of Lincoln's truck.

Clarke peered into the back sympathetically. Lexa was lying on her back across the seats with her legs curled up against the door, shoes on the floor. She cut her eyes at Clarke and stared until Clarke looked away.

Lincoln bumped out onto the road and Lexa shut her eyes and tried to control her nerves. She was never good with wheels.

"Are you from here, Lincoln?" Clarke asked after about ten minutes of driving. The truck was silent except for the rain, maybe thunder in the distance.

"Oh no, we're all from Ohio." He smiled. "Bellamy and Raven, too. We went to highschool together."

Clarke nodded, surprised. "And you all came down here together to open a surf shop?"

Lincoln bobbed his head a bit. He licked his lips and glanced at the rearview mirror.

"No." Lexa supplied bluntly.

"We didn't know anything about surfing when we moved here." Lincoln said vaguely.

"Lincoln still doesn't. He uses a giant foamie and wears boardies and pretends he's a surfer."

Lincoln rolled his eyes and leaned conspiratorially towards Clarke. "She acts like a mean old grump sometimes, but don't let it fool you. Lexa's a softie."

"No." Lexa mumbled.

Clarke glanced around to see Lexa lying on her side now, eyes closed, cheek pressed up against the fabric seat with an arm dangling over the edge.

Lincoln smiled. "She gives free surf lessons to kids."

Clarke awwed. Lexa pushed a fist into the back of her seat until Clarke reached behind and slapped her hand away.

"I can't believe all four of you moved down here together. I don't think I have many people who'd do that with me."

Lincoln shrugged. "Lexa needed-"

"Gah, just stop talking!" Lexa rolled over so that her face was pressed against the back seat and her voice was muffled. "She's a stranger, Lincoln."

That hurt a little bit. Clarke clasped her hands on her lap and pressed her lips together. She watched the road and the scenery out the window. Lincoln glanced over, shaking his head.

"She's out of it." He mouthed, and Clarke smiled faintly.

"I'm sure you have millions of admirers who'd love to move with you." He said out loud. "Raven, for one. Bellamy loves you. I'd go, 'cause you seem pretty awesome. You aren't some stuck up Hollywood bitch, you know."

Clarke's smile grew. Lincoln winked at her.

"And Lexa would go. She tries to act all cool around you, but she's got stars in her eyes."

Lexa mumbled something against the backseat. Clarke reached around and prodded her in the back.

"Hey, Lexa Woods." She said impulsively. "I am not a stranger, just so you know. I'll be your friend even if you won't be mine."

Lexa squirmed until Clarke stopped poking her. "Is this kindergarten?" she muttered, but her shoulders softened and she reached an arm blindly behind her and grazed Clarke's hand.

Lincoln lifted his eyebrows triumphantly. "See? Softie." He mouthed at Clarke.

The drive took about an hour and a half. When they reached their destination-a large, modern surf store a few blocks from the water-Lexa was the first one out of the truck. She straightened her t-shirt, tied her shoes, and a ran a hand through her hair, then strode purposefully through the front door.

The rain had stopped, but the air was hot and humid and thick, and Clarke tried to tame her hair while she hurried after Lincoln and Lexa. She veered off to browse the store while they dealt with the boards.

Where Lexa's shop was pine and sandy and wooden and bright, this one was clean-cut and black and white. It was large-at least four times the size of Lexa's-and well organized. Jupiter Surf had shaded areas out back where Bellamy could work on his boards on a haphazardly constructed wooden table, but this place had indoor workrooms.

It wasn't very warm, and Clarke decided she liked Lexa's shop better.

Lexa and Lincoln walked back through the shop carrying two boards-Lexa held the noses, setting the pace, while Lincoln had the tails tucked under his arms and scrambled a bit to keep up.

They loaded them into the back of the truck with a board pad on the tailgate, and Lexa kicked off her shoes again and climbed into the backseat.

It was a silent drive as the sun was setting.

Lincoln hit a section of potholes in the road as they passed through Port St. Lucie, and the truck lurched violently from side to side. Clarke seized her door handle and Lincoln held the wheel and straightened them out.

"We good back there?" he glanced at the rearview mirror.

Lexa struggled to catch her breath while nodding casually. She un-fisted her hands and rubbed at the red, half-moon welts on her palms. Clarke watched her through the side mirror.

She tipped forward and gestured at the radio. "May I?"

"Go for it." Lincoln nodded.

Clarke skipped over several stations-top forty, country, Spanish-language, talk shows-before landing on "Fly Me to the Moon." She smiled to herself, sat back, and caught Lexa's gaze in the mirror.

Lexa nodded slightly in thanks, relaxed, and tipped her head against the glass to go to sleep.

* * *

Clarke rolled over and groaned at the name lit up on her phone. It was in all caps, because that's how he'd entered it.

"FINN. COLLINS." His name was shouting at her.

New York's golden child, casting director and producer of the new film version of Anything Goes. Clarke sighed into her pillow. She ignored the call and scrolled through her contacts to her manager's number instead. She sat up as it rang, mildly disappointed that she wouldn't be waking Miller in the middle of the night.

"Would you look at that, she's alive!" he greeted loudly.

Clarke decided to cut him off before he could get started. "Miller, it's midnight." She announced, voice rough with sleep. "I just need you to catch me up very quickly. What's going on with the role? Have they cast somebody else?"

Miller was silent, on the precipice of some kind of rant.

"I know Harper's told you where I am, and I'm sorry I haven't called, but I'm here now. And I'm listening. Please."

Clarke got out of bed and crossed to the sliding door, where she peeked through the curtains. The beach was dim, lit only by green lights on the hotel because of sea turtle nesting. She'd done some research.

"Well thank you, Clarke." Miller drawled. "I'm great. It's nice of you to ask. How are you?"

"Miller, please."

He sighed. There was clanging on his end of the line, like he'd decided to cook himself a midnight snack.

"Of course they haven't given the role to somebody else. It's tailor-made for you, Clarke. Collins knows that, and he's making everybody wait to make a decision until it's been determined either that you'll take the role or that you've actually gone insane and dropped off the planet."

Clarke groaned and dropped her head forward against the cold glass.

"Yes. That's what they're speculating." Miller carried on. "Clarke Griffin had a breakdown. You weren't that far from crazy to begin with."

"I didn't have a breakdown." Clarke protested.

Miller's voice rose. "Well I wouldn't know that, would I?"

Clarke sighed.

"Listen, Clarke, just tell me what happened with Finn Collins. Did he insult you at that meeting? He probably offended you, right? So you vanished, some kind of extreme, ill-advised version of the silent treatment."

"I don't want to talk about it, Miller." Clarke's voice was small.

"Then just give me an answer. Yes or no. Are you the next Reno Sweeney?"

Clarke pushed off the glass door and paced past her bed, chewing on her lip.

Miller's tone was softer now, friendly. The clanging had stopped. "I don't mean to pressure you, but this movie is going to be huge. It's exactly what you were looking for. You wanted to get back to theater, right? This is your middle ground."

"It's…an amazing role." Clarke admitted.

Miller jumped on that. "Right! And if you let it go because of something that golden little pretty boy has said to you, I will fly across the country myself and force feed you your Tonys."

Clarke smiled slightly.

"They're statues, Clarke. I don't think you'd enjoy them."

"Just…I need time, okay?" Clarke said softly. "It's the role of a lifetime, Miller, but I haven't felt like myself in a while."

Miller sighed, resigned. "They'll wait. There's no doubt. They're quite taken with you, Miss Griffin."

"Thank you."

"But if I hang up this phone, you have to promise to answer when I call. I don't like getting all my news through Harper. She skews it and yells at me when I'm too pushy."

Clarke chuckled. "I'll call. But you have to do something about those rumors. I'm not completely crazy."

"I'm telling everybody you've gone off the deep end." Miller assured. "Clarke Griffin, off the reservation and around the bend. If you find some marbles on the floor, pick them up because they're probably hers."

"Shut your face, Miller."

"Sort yourself out, Clarke. It'll all come up roses."

Clarke could hear the smile in his voice. She hung up and got back under the covers. She thought about Anything Goes and wondered if Lexa liked Bing Crosby.

* * *

"Are you calling her this summer?"

Bellamy glanced at Lexa, eyebrow raised. He was waxing a ten-foot longboard in the shaping room and working up a sweat. Lexa sat on the floor with a glass of juice-not dressed, because she'd decided not to surf that morning.

She sighed when she realized what he was talking about.

"I don't know yet."

"Well, you should do it before the end of summer. So like…a couple months. But don't wait too long, dude. Unless you want her to come down for winter or whatever. She's getting a job soon, right?"

Lexa picked grains of sand off the palms of her hands. "Supposedly. That's what she said in the emails."

"You don't believe her?" Bellamy stopped waxing and raised his eyebrows. "I do. I think she's actually trying this time, Lexa."

Lexa rolled her eyes. "It's been three years."

Bellamy shrugged. "People change. She's not with your…with Titus anymore."

Lexa ground her teeth together. She took a deep breath and sipped from her juice.

"She just wants to see you." Bellamy continued waxing. "You know we'll all run her off if she tries anything."

"Raven will run you off if she hears you defending her." Lexa muttered.

"Maybe if you call her-"

"How can you push me to do this after-you know-you-fuck." Lexa cut her gaze at the back of Bellamy's head and tipped her own so that it knocked against the wall.

Bellamy turned and stared at her. "Deep down, somewhere in that big ol' heart of yours, I know you want this."

Lexa scoffed quietly. She stared down at her juice.

Bellamy threw his last little sliver of wax at her. He turned around and plucked a new one off the shelf.

"If you need time, sure. No prob, dude. But just think about calling her. Seeing her. For closure, if nothing else." Bellamy advised. "And then if you'd like, you can reject her apology and chop her out of your life like a green leg."

Lexa hummed. "Nicely worded, Boris."

Bellamy nodded, pleased with himself.

"But I don't trust her. After-I don't trust her."

Just saying it made Lexa feel like she couldn't breathe. Thinking about it. Her throat closed up a little bit, and she bit her cheek and waited for it to pass.

Bellamy kept his gaze politely fixed on the surfboard. "You don't have to do anything you're not ready for." He said quietly. He turned around and pointed his wax at Lexa.

"I'm just sayin'…We could probably turn Diana into a surfer. I'll make her a pink board and we can put her in a competition or something. One of those grom ones. She'd totally beat Lincoln."

Lexa chuckled, able to breathe again. "Raven's gonna beat the shit out of you when you welcome my mother with open arms."

"Wouldn't be the first time." Bellamy smiled.

Lexa stood up and stretched out her back and leaned against the doorway.

"Also, not open arms. Maybe like, concealed weapons and intimidating looks." Bellamy corrected. "I'm sure you'd have to bail at least one of us out of jail."

"What are you going to jail for?"

Clarke appeared behind Lexa, hands shoved in her light linen pockets, eyebrows raised expectantly.

Bellamy waved his wax around vaguely.

"Loads of things." Lexa supplied before he could pull something ridiculous out of his ass. "Too many to count. Bellamy's a rule-breaker."

Clarke laughed loudly, bright-eyed and minty fresh. She smiled at Lexa.

"You said you were going to teach me about wetsuits today. I thought we could get started early."

Lexa bobbed her head around.

"Unless you're going surfing or something." Clarke said quickly, glancing at Bellamy. "Then I'll wait. I'll set up the display boards outside."

Lexa drank the rest of her juice and hid the glass behind some fins on one of Bellamy's shelves. She pushed Clarke's shoulders lightly to get her to turn around, and then led the way out onto the shop floor and to one of the racks near the back wall.

Clarke bounced eagerly on her heels.

"Hey," Lexa spun abruptly and held up a hand to keep Clarke from running into her. She caught the side of Clarke's boob and blushed furiously. "I'm sorry I said you were a stranger yesterday. That was-I was tired. And…you're obviously not a stranger. I mean I know who you are. Way too much."

Way too much.

Clarke lifted an eyebrow. This was new. "I understand completely, Lexa."

Lexa nodded shortly and stutter-stepped backwards.

"How are you feeling today?" Clarke asked, amused.

"Like I can breathe." Lexa smiled wryly.

She moved around the rack and gestured for Clarke to follow her. She removed a suit and held it up, biting her cheek when Clarke ran her fingers curiously down the length of neoprene.

"This is called a spring suit, or a shorty." Lexa informed. "Short arms, short legs. It's good for Florida winters, or if someone gets particularly cold. A full suit has long arms and legs, and it's mostly only divers who buy them here."

Clarke grasped Lexa's wrist so that she could turn the suit around and see the back.

"The thickness is measured in millimeters. This is a 2/1, which means that it's two millimeters thick in the torso and one in the arms and legs."

"Do you ever wear one?" Clarke wondered.

Lexa shrugged. "In winter, sometimes. And I wear booties if I'm on the reef."

Clarke's eyes lit up. Lexa realized shortly that she was fascinated with the zip-on wetsuit booties. She batted her eyelashes until Lexa found a pair for her to try on, and she paired it with a neoprene hood and gloves.

"Do I look like a penguin?" was the first thing Clarke asked, cheeks pushed together by the material.

Lexa tucked strands of blonde hair back behind the hood. She held Clarke by the chin and turned her head from side to side. Clarke's eyes danced.

"You look like a fool, Clarke Griffin." Lexa smiled.

She looked absolutely ridiculous, and she scurried away to the back room to show Bellamy.

Lexa lined up the rest of the wetsuits to show Clarke and chuckled to herself when she heard Bellamy's laugh from the shop floor.

* * *

 and here's the proof of consent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> original fic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8818337/1/Ain-t-That-a-Kick-in-the-Head  
> written by: iamapanda on ffn or elly-bells on tumblr.
> 
> this is a converted fic. i have permission from the original author to convert it to clexa.


	5. Chapter 5

Lexa recognized the sliminess under her foot. She'd already stepped on a few, and the rays would shoot away before she had a chance to move. She'd never been stung-and she didn't want to scare Clarke-but she couldn't have her stomping around in the waist deep water.

Clarke sloshed hurriedly towards her. She'd just ridden a wave in, clinging desperately to the board on her belly. She was reckless and excited in her movement, while Lexa dragged her fingers calmly through the water.

"Hey Clarke, make sure you shuffle your feet, okay?" Lexa called casually.

Clarke smiled, confused. She flicked the wet hair out of her eyes. "What?"

"Don't stomp or take big steps. Just do the shuffle."

"Why?" Clarke's smile turned suspicious.

"Just…" Lexa decided to play it down. "There may be rays out here. If you shuffle, you warn them with your toes instead of just stomping on them. And they can feel the vibrations."

Clarke's eyes widened. She was on her board in a flash, halfway draped across it with her feet lifted out of the water.

"Oh my God!" she shrieked. Her board drifted sideways while Clarke peered over the edge, looking for shadows in the water.

Lexa bobbed her head. This was exactly what she'd expected. Clarke might actually be able to scare the rays away.

"Stingrays! Oh my-Lexa!" Clarke paddled frantically with her hands to get to where Lexa stood calmly in the waist deep water. "I've already been stung once! I don't-we have to-"

"Clarke, they're tiny." Lexa held the nose of Clarke's board steady. "They're more scared of you than you are of them."

Clarke looked ready to combust. "That's what everybody says! That doesn't stop them from appearing on those shows where they were mauled by wild animals!"

Lexa bit her cheek. She dropped lower in the water so that only her head was visible and crossed her arms over the nose of the surfboard.

"If you shuffle, you'll be totally fine. How would you like it if somebody pinned you to the floor and you couldn't get away?"

Clarke looked horrified. "No. No, just…Take me in. Push me in. I don't want-I don't want-"

Lexa rolled her eyes. She set her chin on her arms. "I'm not getting out of this water until you catch some more waves, Clarke Griffin."

"Have you stepped on any?"

Lexa sighed. It was like talking to a wall.

"Just a couple. They just shoot away, Clarke. They're harmless."

They really weren't. They'd cause excruciating pain that Lexa couldn't treat with just hot water and a nap. But the chances of being stung were incredibly small. Clarke watched her warily.

Lexa smiled. "You're a dancer, Clarke. Let me teach you the stingray shuffle."

Clarke's eyes seemed to light up, like Lexa had phrased it the perfect way. She slid slowly off her board, staring down into the water, and inched towards Lexa.

"Just scoot your feet along the bottom." Lexa demonstrated. "The vibrations scare them away. Or you'll touch them with your toes and they'll dart in the opposite direction."

Clarke looked too afraid to move. "What if they attack me?"

Lexa managed not to laugh. "They will not attack you."

Clarke looked dubious. She shuffled slowly around, following Lexa. She kept one hand on her board, ready to leap back onto it if she felt anything odd, and her eyes fixed on the water.

"I wish it was clearer." She murmured.

"I need to take you up to the panhandle. Or the Keys. You'll see everything that tries to sneak up on you."

Clarke cut her eyes over, unamused. She started moving faster, and eventually took her eyes off the shadowy water and looked for more waves to ride in. Lexa was surprisingly successful in getting her to stop bouncing around like a jumping bean.

"I wish you would've let me wear that wetsuit." Clarke remarked mildly.

"You would be suffocating, Clarke. Burning up."

"I feel it would offer protection against whatever wild animals may be out here."

Lexa decided against telling her that a millimeter of neoprene would offer no protection whatsoever against a stingray barb. She gestured at an incoming wave instead, and Clarke crawled onto the board and waited for Lexa to propel her forward.

She'd become pretty adept at getting to her knees, at least, and she managed to stand all the way up on several waves. Lexa laughed when she realized that Clarke wasn't bailing when she'd ridden as far as she could go-she was crouching back down and then lying on her belly like she was reversing the steps.

"Teach me a trick." Clarke requested breathlessly, shuffling back out to where Lexa was.

Lexa tipped her head as a small wave crashed against her back. "There's not much you can do on ankle-breakers."

"I want to do what you do. Teach me how to turn and do that spinny thing at the top."

"You can't do that on whitewater, Clarke." Lexa chuckled.

Clarke stood there, staring at her and pouting.

"Let's try something, okay?" Lexa suggested. She turned Clarke's board around and pointed at it. "You stay at the front. Not on the nose, or you'll pearl us into the sand. Sit, stand, kneel, whatever. I'll be on the back. Maybe we can manage a cutback or something."

Clarke clasped her hands excitedly. "You'll ride with me?"

Lexa smiled. "Get up there, Clarke."

Clarke clambered clumsily onto the board while Lexa held it steady. She sat cross-legged near the nose, and Lexa dragged them a few yards backwards so they'd get a longer ride. She waited for the approaching swell of whitewater, pushed off easily, and popped right to her feet behind Clarke.

Lexa shifted her weight back and forth to pick up speed while Clarke shrieked happily.

"Don't fall off." Lexa said loudly, and then twisted left until they were frontside along the wave.

She laughed at Clarke's volume and cut back the other way. Clarke stuck one fist in the air, clinging to the rail with the other. She reached blindly behind her and held Lexa's ankle, and Lexa lazily steered them around a boogie boarder and a few children.

She bailed in the shallow water, landing on her feet, and Clarke tipped off the board and laughed loudly.

"That's so much fun!" She bounced forward impulsively and gave Lexa a hug, and then was suddenly aware that Lexa wasn't wearing a rashguard and her own had ridden up to her abdomen. She flushed and looked around excitedly.

"Stingray shuffle, Clarke." Lexa reminded, smiling softly.

"Of course, of course." Clarke grabbed her leash and started dragging the board back out to the break. Lexa straightened her shorts and slicked back her shaggy hair and followed along.

"This is exhausting. It's a workout regimen in itself." Clarke mused, panting.

Lexa tipped her head vaguely.

"I guess you have to be really in shape to have any kind of success with it." Clarke continued. "You know, to win. Strong arms, legs, and core. It's a very demanding sport."

Lexa hummed.

Clarke peaked an eyebrow. "Are you not tired at all? Because I think I'm about to pass out."

"No, it's just…success isn't a win, you know? Or throwing the best tricks or biggest waves, I don't think." Lexa tapped her thigh and stared down at the water while she shuffled next to Clarke. "It's about, like…you make your body do things that it wouldn't do anywhere else. Even just that-that tiny thing we rode, it's totally new, right?"

Clarke nodded slowly, brow furrowed.

Lexa could tell Clarke wasn't really getting it. She smiled wryly.

"I was paralyzed in that crash I told you about." She ignored Clarke's muted gasp, shaking her head. "I had nerve damage, so I couldn't move my legs, and I kind of threw myself in a pool and tried to swim. I couldn't, of course, and Bellamy jumped in and helped me out."

Clarke was wide-eyed, shuffling slowly. Lexa relayed her story bluntly, like she was tired of it.

"But I started a water therapy program. I didn't want to move back home, just because my par-my mom-I couldn't-I didn't want to do that, so I picked Florida. Water on three sides. Bellamy, Lincoln, and Raven came with me. They thought I was-I don't know-they thought I'd throw myself in the ocean or something."

Lexa laughed drolly and Clarke frowned. They stopped shuffling when they hit waist-deep water. Clarke sank so that she could prop her arms on one side of the board, and Lexa did the same on the other.

"I spent every day in the pool, and then when I could walk, I spent all day at the beach. Bellamy brought me a board once, told me to get on, and then pushed me in the whitewater like I do for you."

Clarke smiled.

"So yeah, it's not about…being really in shape or success or anything. I mean, I learned how to walk again, which is…" Lexa shrugged and patted the board so that water splashed into Clarke's face. "And as far as enjoyment goes, I've never heard anybody laugh as loudly as you do out here."

Clarke nodded sagely. "Well, yeah, I'm basically a professional now, goofy."

"No."

"I want to go ride the big ones."

Lexa chuckled. "You'll get yourself killed."

Clarke was trying to contain her excitement over the fact that Lexa had shared with her another huge chunk of her life. She was beginning to realize patience was key.

Lexa watched her calmly, chin on her hands.

"Maybe…by the time the Pro-Am comes and you have to leave, you can try a big wave."

Clarke gasped exaggeratedly.

"But only if you don't hurt yourself before then." Lexa challenged.

"Let's ride another one in, and you can do that turn-y thing." Clarke stood fully and rocked the board until Lexa did as well.

Lexa grumped and groaned and purposely turned way too sharply when they caught a wave. Clarke went careening off one side of the board and Lexa tipped off the other, tangled by the leash still attached to Clarke's ankle. Clarke didn't seem to care. She laughed, eyes bright against her sun-darkened skin.

Clarke pulled off her rashguard when they reached the sand and ran her fingers through her hair. Lexa pursed her lips and looked away thoughtfully. She sat next to the board, propped her sunglasses on her nose, and leaned back with her palms in the sand to dry off.

Clarke joined her, shoulder to shoulder. Lexa's body buzzed with the contact.

"I think I've been made." Clarke whispered a moment later, staring straight ahead.

Lexa frowned. "What?"

"Right behind us. Don't look, but I think they recognize me."

"Really." Lexa thought about Clarke and her giant sunhat.

Clarke knocked her foot against Lexa's ankle.

"Is this a problem?" Lexa asked, ready to just lie back and fall asleep in the sun.

"Only if they tell somebody, and that somebody tells somebody, and it increases exponentially until I have a mob chasing me down the coast."

Lexa smirked. "I thought you welcome and adore all of your fans, Clarke Griffin?"

Clarke rolled her eyes. She chanced a glance behind her and then faced forward and muttered to herself.

"Don't say anything." She whispered quickly, squeezing Lexa's arm.

Lexa didn't even have time to respond.

"Clarke Griffin?"

Clarke looked up, feigning surprise, and smiled widely at the woman. She stood with a teenage girl at her side, camera in her hands.

"Yes, hi there!" Clarke climbed to her feet.

Lexa fought the urge to reach up and brush the sand off the backs of her thighs.

"We were just having a family beach day and we saw you sitting over here, and-I mean- my daughter and I are just such big fans, we couldn't not ask for a picture."

"I would love to take a picture with you!" Clarke enthused. She glanced down at Lexa, who looked ready tip over and fall asleep. "Um, Lexa, could you…"

Lexa looked up lazily, eyes dancing in the sun. She lifted an eyebrow.

"Would you take our picture, please?"

Lexa nodded and stood. She smiled warmly at the woman and her daughter.

"This is my friend, Lexa." Clarke introduced unnecessarily.

She took her place between the two women and smiled, hoping that this picture wouldn't make it to the internet. Her hair was curled, her eyes were red, and her bikini was probably askew. Lexa smirked behind the camera because Clarke was at least eight inches shorter than both her fans.

"My brother's been checking you and your friend out." The woman's daughter informed Clarke, smiling.

Lexa cut her eyes over their shoulders and Clarke laughed at her indignant expression.

"We read that you might be in the new Anything Goes. We're so excited; it's one of our favorite movies."

Clarke was unprepared for that. She recovered quickly, noting Lexa's mild surprise.

"I…yes, it would be a wonderful opportunity for me. Nothing's been decided yet. It's one of my favorites as well."

Lexa watched her curiously.

"Well, we really hope you do it." The woman with the camera nodded and smiled. "We'll let you go now."

Her daughter looked at Lexa, eyes wide and earnest. "She's so beautiful." She gushed, nodding at Clarke. "Isn't she beautiful? My friends won't believe I met her."

Lexa smiled. "She is."

Clarke's eyes flickered over. Her cheeks turned pink.

"Thank you, Miss Griffin!" The woman said again, and then turned and started traipsing back to her family's spot on the beach.

Clarke sighed and sat back in the sand.

Lexa sat next to her and tipped her head. "I love Anything Goes." She said quietly.

Clarke nodded. She'd expected nothing less.

* * *

Harper stood in the gravel parking lot of the yellow surf shop. Her plane had only landed two hours ago, and she was already sweating. She shook her head in hopeless amusement and wondered again how Clarke had ended up working here.

She walked through the open front doors and glanced around. There was a brunette woman sitting behind the glass counter-red shorts, t-shirt, unruly hair. She looked up from her book when Harper approached.

"Is there anything I can help you find?" she asked attentively, eyebrow raised.

Harper bobbled her head and leaned against the counter. "I'm actually looking for Clarke Griffin."

Lexa stared at her.

"I'm a friend. She knows I'm coming." Harper said quickly.

Lexa hummed, nodding in realization. She glanced around like Clarke might be hidden in the racks. "She actually went to pick up a board with one of our other employees. They should be back soon."

Harper studied the woman. "You're Lexa Woods."

Lexa's eyes flashed.

Harper stuck out her hand and smiled. "Harper McIntyre. It's nice to meet you. I've known Clarke since high school. She's told me about you."

"Oh, that's…yeah, I'm Lexa." Lexa loosened her jaw and shook Harper's hand. She closed her book and shifted a pile of board shorts off the stool next to her. "You can come around here and wait for her if you'd like."

"I can't believe Clarke's working here." Harper chuckled, moving to take the seat.

Lexa tipped backwards, balancing against the wall behind her. She propped her bare feet on the counter since Lincoln was taking care of the only customers in the shop at the moment.

"She seems to like it." Lexa shrugged. "She gets free surf lessons."

Harper suspected that Clarke also had a bit of a crush contributing to her working here, but she wouldn't reveal that out loud.

"I haven't had to repeat anything. She's very eager."

Harper chuckled. "Eager, yes. Peppy, bouncy..."

Lexa let her stool fall flat again and laughed lightly. Harper was relaxed, positive, non-threatening-probably not some paparazzo going to extreme measures to obtain a picture.

"So I guess-did you come from California? You flew here?"

"I did." Harper watched Lexa slide the glass display door open with her foot to rearrange the stickers in the counter. "She told me to visit. And I wanted to check on her since it didn't seem like anybody else was going to."

"Does she need checking on?"

Harper smiled and helped Lexa with a stack of stickers. "That's why I'm here. I don't know."

Lexa hummed. "But there's nobody else who'd come out here? She doesn't have a…boyfriend or anything?"

If this was a question from an overly nosy fan, Harper would shut it down. She'd shrug and "no comment" the whole thing. But it was a woman in bare feet and salty hair stacking Jupiter Surf stickers and trying too hard to act casual.

Harper eyes danced knowingly. "She doesn't, no."

Lexa hummed again. She glanced at Harper. "Did she tell you I've been teaching her to surf?"

"Yes. And she said you're going to teach her some tricks soon, too."

"She's making things up." Lexa shook her head, smiling.

"Hey, Lexa," Lincoln called from the surfboard room. He appeared in the doorway with a young couple in tow. "Did Bellamy fix the nose of that shortboard? The green one? I think it would be perfect for these guys."

"It's in the back." Lexa smiled at the couple. "You need to let the resin sit, but it should be good to go in a couple days."

As Lincoln led them back through the board room, Bellamy teetered in through the front door with an eleven foot longboard balanced on his head. He knocked into the doorway as he turned to face Lexa, and Clarke bounced up behind him and winced and acted like she was ready to catch anything that might be dropped.

If Bellamy dropped that board on her, she'd be driven into the ground. Lexa chuckled to herself.

"Clarke!" Harper exclaimed.

Clarke's eyes darted over. She squealed and left Bellamy by himself to fumble his way into the surfboard room. He caught a wooden beam and stumbled and laughed loudly.

"I thought you'd just wait at the hotel!" Clarke hugged Harper, nearly tipping her off the stool.

Lexa shut the glass display door and watched.

"I wanted to see where you got yourself a job." Harper grinned. "I've been talking to Miss Lexa here."

Clarke's smile softened. She glanced at Lexa. "Don't believe anything she says about me."

"You're the one making things up, Clarke Griffin." Lexa tipped her stool back against the wall. "I never said I was going to teach you any tricks."

"Well you are because I'm going to make you." Clarke challenged, lips quirked.

Lexa narrowed her eyes.

"Not forcibly." Clarke amended, because Lexa would probably drown her under the pier if she tried to force her to do anything. "But I have my ways."

Harper leaned against the counter and watched the exchange, amused.

"I guess we'll see." Lexa said shortly.

Clarke eyed her stool. "You're going to tip backwards and break your head open."

"I've had worse." Lexa shrugged. She stared hard at Clarke, eyebrow raised, daring her to argue with that.

Clarke's stubborn stance melted at the comment. Her hands fell from her hips and she pouted slightly. Harper looked questioningly at Lexa, who let her stool fall flat again and smiled triumphantly.

"Hey, broskie," Bellamy yelled from somewhere in the back, banging things around. "Come show me where you want this monster."

Clarke frowned. "Who's that?"

"Me." Lexa rolled her eyes and stood up. "It was nice meeting you, Harper. Make yourself at home in here."

Harper nodded and smiled as Lexa walked away. She looked at Clarke, just staring for a minute. Clarke raised her eyebrows when she realized what Harper was doing.

"What, do I have-"

Harper shook her head, smiling her knowing little smile. Clarke huffed. Harper winked exaggeratedly and nodded at the door Lexa had gone through, and Clarke flushed abruptly.

"Oh my-shut up." She mumbled, spinning on her heel to get back to work.

Harper chuckled and worked on stacking the stickers Lexa had left out.

* * *

Lexa was running over a schedule for the Pro-Am weekend in the lounge when there was a knock at the yellow side door. She glanced at it suspiciously-since it was dark outside-and rolled her eyes when Clarke peeked her head through. Clarke caught sight of Lexa on the couch and smiled.

"I love your glasses!"

"Did you forget something?" Lexa asked wryly. She ran a hand through her hair and straightened her reading glasses. She definitely hadn't been expecting company.

Clarke stepped fully into the room, Harper at her side. "We had nothing to do at the hotel, so we'd thought we'd come and keep you company this evening. Bellamy said you spend most nights here."

Lexa stared up at them.

"Or we can go somewhere else." Clarke hurried. She eyed the mess of papers on the coffee table, pleased that there were no empty bottles lying around. "Or we could help with that-whatever that is. I'm actually surprised you're not surfing."

"It's black-ball." Lexa smiled. "They black-balled me. Strong currents."

Harper narrowed her eyes. "What does that even mean?"

"The no surfing flag is a black ball on a yellow background." Clarke informed before Lexa could say anything. "And Lexa's just being crude."

Lexa raised an eyebrow, impressed. "Look at you go."

Clarke smiled and blushed slightly and sat on the armchair next to the couch. Harper sat next to Lexa and squinted at the schedule drafts and inventory lists and contact pages.

"Enjoying your evening?" she joked.

Lexa chuckled. "I think I'm going to have one big staff meeting where I fill everybody in on the Pro-Am weekend. Probably at mine and Boris' house, just so everybody ends up on the same page."

Clarke nodded intently. Lexa looked tired already-in sweats and a t-shirt and messy hair-and the event was still over a month away.

"Is that why you don't open on Sundays?" Clarke wondered. "So you can catch up with all the business stuff?"

Lexa's eyes flickered over. She shook her head. "Church."

Clarke remembered the small silver cross. She held Lexa's gaze before it drifted away and landed on Mars. The cat jumped onto the coffee table and splayed out over the piles of paper.

"Hey, no." Lexa protested, smiling. She flicked his white paws. "Get lost, cat."

Clarke got up from the armchair and moved to the coffee table. She sat on the floor and tied her hair back, rolled up her sleeves, and pulled up the Pandora app on her phone. She opened the Jersey Boys station, smiling innocently when Lexa's eyes narrowed at her with the sound of Frankie Valli's voice.

"Let's get to work, then." Clarke chirped, poring over the papers on the table.

Lexa studied her. Harper was already stacking several pages together.

"I can color code all the schedules sometime." Clarke offered absently. "We can put everything in a binder, tabs and all, so that you'll be able to find it easily. And I'll make a checklist of people we need to call. Everything will be so much more efficient. Maybe you'll get some sleep."

Lexa dropped her eyes from Clarke's face and bit her lip. She nodded vaguely-because it seemed like Clarke couldn't be stopped-and sang under her breath to "Oh, What a Night."

Clarke noticed, exchanged a smile with Harper, and set to work organizing Lexa's mess.

* * *

 and here's the proof of consent.


	6. Chapter 6

"You'd make a good Reno Sweeney."

Clarke looked up from her French toast to find Lexa studying her thoughtfully. Lexa tipped her head, cheek full of pancake. She covered her mouth to speak.

"Small, loud. Clarke Griffin on a boat. I'd get a kick out of that."

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "Is that a pun?"

Lexa grabbed the syrup jug with both hands and doused her remaining pancakes. She hummed the chorus of "I get a kick out of you," and met Clarke's gaze, eyebrow raised.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You're so full of it." Clarke shook her head, smiling. She ripped the tops off four packets of sugar and dumped them into her coffee.

Lexa paused with her fork halfway to her mouth. "Would you like some insulin to go with that?"

"If you know so much about theater, and you majored in it, why aren't you doing something with it?" Clarke asked, ignoring the sugar comment. She glanced around the diner and hailed Octavia to bring more syrup since Lexa had run out.

"I run a surf shop."

"But why?" Clarke pressed.

Lexa stabbed a pancake. "Because I like it."

"More than theater?"

Lexa was silent for a moment. Clarke sipped her coffee, assuming she wasn't going to get an answer. She thanked Octavia when she dropped off a new jug of syrup.

"Sometimes I like it better." Lexa said finally, cheeks full of food. "They're-it's-they're completely different worlds."

Clarke observed her. She'd come to find that Lexa would tap her thighs when questioned. Cornered or distressed or annoyed, Clarke didn't know. "Do you sing?"

"No."

"Can you?"

Lexa shrugged.

Clarke smiled. "I bet you can dance."

"Wouldn't you like to know." Lexa was bent over her plate, eyes smiling.

"I would like to know, yes." Clarke enthused. "I'd like to see, actually."

Lexa hummed. "I'll just break it down in the middle of breakfast, then."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Not now. Soon. Just…the next time we have music. We can dance."

"Maybe. It makes my knees hurt."

Clarke pouted slightly, sympathetic. Lexa caught her expression and shook her head. She stole a bite of French toast off Clarke's plate and sniffed curiously.

"It's vegan. Not poison." Clarke informed. She let Lexa steal several more bites before slapping her hand away.

"So why haven't you taken that role? Reno Sweeney?" Lexa propped her feet up on the booth next to Clarke. She was wearing shoes this time-faded and nearly untied-so Clarke didn't bother moving them back to the floor.

"It's…" Clarke pursed her lips and rolled through a million ways to say what she needed to.

"Does it have anything to do with why you came down here?"

Clarke hummed lowly.

"It's okay to say you can't tell me, you know. Instead of hemming and hawing like a donkey over there." Lexa dragged her pancakes around a puddle of syrup and lifted a brow.

"I just…would prefer to not talk about it with you at this moment." Clarke said carefully.

Lexa nodded. "I hope whatever it is gets fixed. It'd be nice if they chose not to destroy one of my favorite movies."

A smile grew on Clarke's face. "You think they'd ruin it without me?"

Lexa faltered. Her pancake fell from her fork halfway to her mouth. She'd been lulled away from her vigil state by syrup and amusing conversation. "I'm-I mean, I know you now, so I'd have to like it if you were in it."

Clarke laughed loudly. "Now who's full of it?"

"Shut your face, Clarke." Lexa muttered, staring down at her plate.

"That's no way to talk to a lady!" Bellamy slid into the booth next to Lexa and slung an arm easily around her shoulders. Lexa shrugged out of it immediately and shoved at him until he gave her some space.

Raven sat next to Clarke, breathing like she'd run up from South Beach.

"Pleasant morning?" Lexa asked drolly.

"Yeah, dude. We were-"

"Not at all. We've been lugging dive tanks around since five a.m., while you've been sitting here having a dandy fucking little breakfast." Raven glanced at the counter and then hurriedly looked away.

"Lexa was working until two in the morning last night." Clarke defended.

Raven looked at her suspiciously. "How do you know that?"

"My friend Harper and I were helping her."

Raven looked at the counter again.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Bellamy wondered, having found some kind of food to fill his mouth. He sprayed crumbs over the table. "Are you hiding from Octavia?"

Lexa snorted. "She likes Octavia. She's probably trying to think of the best way to seduce her. Staring at the counter like a scared baby animal isn't going to work, Ray."

"Fuck you, Lexa."

Lexa ignored that. "Really, you should ask her out. Maybe she'll give us free pancakes."

Clarke smiled.

"Like I'm going to take relationship advice from you." Raven scoffed. "Damn mess."

Lexa's fingers tightened around her fork. Her eyes flashed up at Raven and then fixated silently on her plate. Bellamy nudged her side and offered her part of his muffin and she shook her head shortly. Raven got up and approached the counter where Octavia was arranging donuts in a display.

"How was y'all's morning?" Bellamy asked brightly.

Clarke glanced at Lexa staring silently down at her food. "It was nice. The beach is still…black-balled, so I didn't have my lesson this morning. We decided to get breakfast instead."

"Good plan. Food." Bellamy nodded.

Clarke looked at him and gestured with her chin at Lexa. He shook his head slightly. Lexa finished her pancakes and sat back in the booth, keeping hold of her fork to twirl it around. She cut her eyes at Bellamy when he put half of his muffin on her plate, and he looked out the window and pretended not to notice.

Lexa plucked at the muffin with her fork and took a bite, and Clarke smiled to herself.

"Lexa's teaching me about scuba today." Clarke offered lightly.

Bellamy jumped on the topic, nodding vigorously. "She's good. You should let her take you down sometime."

Even Lexa's cheeks flushed with the wording.

"The Keys are the best." Bellamy continued, oblivious. "You can just chill with some manatees. Or- have you heard of Boca Raton? I don't know, man. There are loads of places."

"I'll go wherever Lexa directs me." Clarke said simply.

Lexa's eyes flashed up. Her scowl dropped away for a second and Clarke offered her a smile.

"Do you want a donut?" Clarke wondered, glancing at the counter. "I can get one and we can go get to work."

Lexa pursed her lips. "Yes, please." She mumbled. "Two, actually, since you'll do whatever I direct you to."

Clarke chuckled, pleased, and tossed a napkin ball onto Lexa's plate. She slipped out of the booth to fetch two donuts and Bellamy gave her a discreet thumbs-up.

* * *

Lexa situated Clarke on a stool behind the register and dumped a pile of scuba gear onto the glass counter-masks, snorkels, a BCD and regulator. Clarke picked up a mask immediately and put it on, wincing when the rubber strap caught in her hair. She pressed it against her face pouted seductively in Lexa's direction.

"How do I look?" Her voice was nasally because of the nose covering.

Lexa laughed shortly. "I spy a new red carpet look."

"How do you make it not foggy?"

"Spit." Lexa demonstrated with another mask, just because she knew it would make Clarke scrunch up her nose. "Or you can buy de-fogger."

Clarke pulled off the mask, whimpering with all the hair that came with it. She was left with strands sticking in all directions and Lexa reached over to pat them down because Clarke seemed oblivious.

"Where's the thing you breathe into?" Clarke glanced around eagerly.

Lexa snatched the BCD and regulator off the counter before Clarke could try them on. "No touching yet." She scolded, eyebrow raised. She dropped them on the floor and held up a snorkel instead.

Clarke sat up straight, hands folded by the register.

"This is a snorkel. If you're at the surface of the water, you don't need to be wasting your oxygen when you could just use a snorkel. It goes on the side of your mask, obviously."

Lexa handed Clarke the snorkel but didn't let go right away. "Don't put it in your mouth. It's an old one."

Clarke scoffed like she hadn't been planning to do exactly that.

"There are a few different kinds. From just normal plastic tubes to dry snorkels, which don't let any water through the opening. Those are pretty nice if the waves are choppy."

"What happens if the normal ones get water in them?" Clarke asked intently.

Lexa smiled. Such a good student. "You either suck it all in and drown, or you blow it out. It'll come right out the top."

Clarke hummed. Lexa was picking a dive fin off the floor when a customer strolled up to the counter. She was a woman about their age, dark hair, empty-handed. Lexa straightened up and smiled politely at her.

"Can I help you find something?"

The woman's eyes dropped deliberately to Lexa's faded shoes and traced all the way back up to her eyes. "I'm actually looking for some shorts to wear while I surf. I like yours, but maybe that's just because they're on you."

Lexa stared at her. "They're not mine." She said bluntly, and then bent back over to fiddle with the dive fins.

Clarke tipped the snorkel up to hide her smile.

The woman sidled forward and leaned against the counter, undeterred. "Well, maybe you could show me some? I like the short ones. Perfect weather to show off the legs, you know?"

"All of our boardies are on that shelf." Lexa pointed to the opposite wall. "Would you just use them for surfing?"

"Do you think I should?" The stranger cocked her hip and eyed Lexa curiously. "What do you wear?"

Clarke wondered if Lexa was aware that she was being flirted with. She played with the snorkel and tried not to laugh because all Lexa seemed to be doing was huffing over dive equipment.

"These." Lexa gestured to her lifeguard shorts.

"Do you have any like that? I think red would suit me."

Lexa bobbled her head. "No, but I'm sure you could get a pair if you became a lifeguard." She drawled.

Clarke coughed to cover up a quiet snort.

The woman looked delighted with this new piece of information. She shuffled even closer to Lexa, until she was toeing the pile of dive fins. "Are you a lifeguard? That's so…noble."

Lexa's eyes narrowed slightly. She studied the stranger, obviously trying to tell if she was serious. Lexa was wearing that look that said she was dealing with morons.

"She's not a lifeguard, but she knows a lot of beach first-aid." Clarke offered helpfully.

Lexa turned and stared at her and Clarke smiled innocently.

The woman glanced dismissively at Clarke. She did a double take and Clarke watched her eyes widen. "Are you-you're not-"

She frowned and shook her head. "You look just like Clarke Griffin, you know. Except for the hair."

Clarke nodded sagely. "I get that a lot."

Lexa tilted back against the counter, amused. "I think she has Clarke Griffin's eyes too."

"She has a nicer nose than Clarke's though." The woman mused-and Clarke wondered how she'd gone from blatantly flirting with Lexa to studying Clarke's face. "Clarke Griffin's is gigantic. And she seems like a bitch."

Clarke narrowed her eyes.

"Huge bitch." Lexa drawled, catching Clarke's gaze.

"Look, I'm going to leave you my number in case you get any of those red shorts in, okay?" The woman finally dragged her eyes away from Clarke and dug in her purse for a piece of paper. "Don't hesitate to use it."

"Sure." Lexa tapped her fingers against the counter while she waited.

"I hope to see you around." The woman handed over the shred of paper, sultry smile fixed on her face.

Lexa barely spared her a glance. She shoved the paper into her pocket, nodded, and smiled. "Thanks for coming. Have a nice day." She bent back over to pick up the dive fins as the woman left the shop.

Clarke toyed with the snorkel and watched her. "So. I think you called me a huge bitch?"

Lexa chuckled.

"You're not even going to deny it." Clarke huffed.

"Clarke Griffin, your hair is better than the Clarke Griffin she knows." Lexa stood up and dropped some fins onto the counter. "And your nose is nice, and if people think you're a bitch then they're dumbasses. You're like Bambi."

"So you're a dumbass." Clarke laughed.

"Language, Clarke."

"You know she was hitting on you, right?"

Lexa hummed vaguely. She held up a fin. "This is a strap-on split fin." She pointed at the band that would loop behind the ankle. "You can wear booties with these, and just slide them on, so they're good for cold water. And the split down the middle makes it easier to flutter kick, which works well when you have a really light current. If I stick you in these in a strong current your legs will fall off from the effort."

Clarke nodded. "Are you going to keep her phone number?"

Lexa held up another fin, this one without a cut down the middle. "This is a blade fin. It has channels for efficient propulsion. As the current gets stronger, the fin gets stiffer and harder to kick. A nice slip-on pair of blade fins is good to have."

"Do a lot of customers hit on you?"

"Clarke." Lexa's eyes flashed in annoyance. She dropped the fin abruptly on the table.

Clarke sat up straight. She recognized that she was probably pushing too far. She pointed at a set of short, stiff fins. "What kind are those?" she wondered quietly.

Lexa exhaled sharply out of her nose. She picked up the fins Clarke was pointing at. "Turtle fins."

Clarke nodded attentively. "What are they for?"

"Technical diving, like caves and wrecks and stuff." Lexa relaxed and handed the fin to Clarke to examine. "They're nice and short so you won't be knocking your feet into thousand year old treasure or anything."

"I'm sure I can manage that anyway." Clarke smiled. She scooted forward on her stool and rested her elbows on the counter. "Now teach me about the thing you breathe into."

"That thing is a regulator." Lexa picked up the BCD vest and pointed at the regulator dangling from the front.

Clarke stood up immediately. "Can I try it on?"

If it had a tank on it, the weight would probably bring Clarke to the ground. Lexa laughed to herself at the thought. She nodded and held it up for Clarke to slip into. While Clarke was excitedly doing up the buckles, Lexa slipped the shred of paper out of her pocket and into the trash can under the counter.

They would not be getting any shipments of lifeguard shorts, and there was no other reason she needed the number.

* * *

Lexa stood in the middle of her and Bellamy's living room with a clipboard in hand and glasses on her nose. She squinted down at her paper because she couldn't read her own writing and held up a hand to silence her audience.

Raven groaned.

"Suck it up, Reyes." Lexa bit out immediately.

Raven held up her hands. She was on the couch between Bellamy and Lincoln, all three with their legs propped up on the coffee table. Clarke sat quietly with Harper on the loveseat, waiting for Lexa to speak.

"Are you seriously still mad at me?" Raven scoffed.

Lexa ignored her and frowned down at her paper. She really should have let Clarke type it all up. She ran a hand through her hair and sighed, frustrated.

"Fine." Raven rolled her eyes. "Pull your angsty-Lexa shit. I don't care. You know I didn't mean anything by what I said. Now can we hurry the fuck up, please? I have-"

"Dude, shut up." Bellamy muttered, elbowing her in the ribs.

Raven looked at him, eyes narrowed. She jammed her fingers into his side and Bellamy grunted and curled forward. Lincoln leaned over to separate the two.

Clarke got out of her seat because Lexa obviously needed help. She crossed the room and looked over Lexa's shoulder, smiling at the scrawl.

"This is the wrong day." She pointed.

Lexa's brow furrowed. She flipped to the right schedule and mumbled, "Sit down, Clarke. I can do it myself."

Clarke snorted and shook her head and returned to the loveseat. She took the opportunity to lean back and observe Lexa's house-airy, two story, faded green and stony on the outside with a pool in the back. The floors were hardwood, the couches were cozy blue, and there was a large television right behind Lexa. There were few pictures, and the majority seemed to be Bellamy and his family. Everybody was blonde.

Lincoln held Raven's ear with one hand and Bellamy's wrist with the other. They all looked intently up at Lexa.

"We have three weeks to prepare. I'm assigning your duties now so you can't come crying to me the Friday of the Pro-Am saying that you didn't get something completed."

"Geez." Raven muttered, and Lincoln moved his hand from her ear to her mouth.

"The beach will be packed. All the surf shops will be packed. You guys know this." Lexa moved her glasses to the top of her head. She twirled the pen around her fingers. "Vendors, sponsors, surfers, and spectators."

"Tell us what we need to do so we can get in the pool." Bellamy grinned.

"Shut it, Boris."

Clarke sat forward. "Lexa and I have created a system so that everybody should be able to get their duties finished in a timely manner."

"I can do it myself, Clarke." Lexa repeated, and Clarke held up her hands and slid backwards again. She crossed her arms and tapped her feet petulantly.

"Raven, you're in charge of inventory." Lexa crossed to the couch and shoved a stack of paper into Raven's reluctant grasp. "There's a whole load of things we ran out of last year, and we can't let that happen again. All you have to do is keep the shelves filled, okay?"

Raven raised an eyebrow. "Oh, so you're talking to me now?"

Lexa turned to Bellamy. "You're in charge of contacts, Bellamy. You make the calls, contact the surfers, the sponsors, get them into our shop." Lexa pulled out a list of phone numbers and handed it to Bellamy. "Rip Curl's the major one. They'll be here with ten of their guys. Any attention you don't put on them, put on Quiksilver and Body Glove."

Bellamy nodded eagerly. "Got it. Got it, dude."

"Lincoln, you got the store." Lexa smiled at him. "Make sure it doesn't burn down or go out of business while all my attention is elsewhere. You run the shifts, you manage, you post the surf conditions on the site. No problem, right?"

"Not a one." Lincoln shook his head easily.

Lexa nodded and walked to the loveseat. She stood in front of Clarke, who looked up at her with a raised eyebrow-still bouncing her feet and huffing every few seconds.

Lexa smiled, amused. "Clarke Griffin."

"Yes?"

"You're in charge of our booth on the beach. It needs a pretty face."

Clarke felt her face flush. She smiled before she could stop herself. Lexa ignored Raven's loud scoff and grumbling in the background.

"It's mostly advertising, plus running it all weekend. We'll be handing out little things-wax, lanyards, key chains, t-shirts-that kind of stuff." Lexa leaned forward slightly. "And your voice is loud enough that you could stand on a dune and yell and all of Florida would be aware of Jupiter Surf."

Harper laughed loudly.

Clarke kicked at Lexa's bare legs. "Inconsiderate bitch." She mumbled, trying not to smile.

"Hey bro, are you done?" Bellamy asked, already off the couch and heading for the sliding door. "Can I go in the pool now?"

"It's almost dark." Lincoln said. He finally released Raven and she got off the couch and fled to the kitchen where the alcohol was kept.

"Yeah, go, swim, whatever." Lexa rolled her eyes.

"I want to go out there too." Clarke whined, craning around Lexa to see the glass door.

Lexa held out both of her hands. She pulled Clarke and Harper to their feet and pushed them lightly where Bellamy had gone. They settled on the patio-lit by paper lanterns which Bellamy swore wouldn't catch fire-and Raven joined them with a six pack of beer, a two liter of soda, and a full bottle of vodka.

Lexa saw it, tipped her head back against her chair, and shut her eyes.

Raven kicked at Lexa's foot until she opened them again.

"I'm sorry about earlier. You know I didn't mean anything by it."

Lexa pursed her lips.

"I got a date." Raven continued, and her eyes dropped to her feet. Lexa smirked. "So I need you to stop ignoring me, bitch."

"The next person who calls me a bitch is going in the pool." Lexa drawled.

Clarke scraped her chair closer to Lexa's, wincing at the horrible sound it made. "What if you're acting like one?"

Raven laughed. "Then she'll throw you in and fucking drown you."

"She wouldn't drown me." Clarke said confidently. "I have millions of fans. That would be like drowning millions of people."

Raven narrowed her eyes and glanced at Harper.

"She's serious." Harper nodded sagely.

"And you're one of those fans." Lexa said pointedly, smiling at Raven. "You'd be distraught if I drowned Clarke."

"Can we…stop talking about this, please?" Clarke suggested, frowning, wondering where the conversation had gone wrong.

Raven handed Lexa a beer and poured a drink for Clarke and Harper, and then went to sit by Lincoln to throw things at Bellamy in the pool. Lexa kicked off her shoes and slouched in her chair. Clarke flicked her flip-flops away and set her foot next to Lexa's, comparing them.

"Your toes are tiny." Lexa remarked.

Clarke pouted. "They're proportional to my body size."

"You're tiny."

"Your toes are abnormally small, Griff." Harper contributed.

Clarke made a small noise of protest. She tried to shift so that her feet were hidden under her chair, but Lexa locked an ankle around her calf and wouldn't let her move.

Lexa shrugged. "They're cute." She watched Bellamy in the pool and sipped from her beer and tried to act casual.

Clarke caught Harper's eye and smiled.

"You and Bellamy have a lovely home, Lexa." Clarke complimented.

"It's lovely because of me. Bellamy would live in a hovel."

"Why did you move in with him, and not Raven or Lincoln?"

Lexa tapped her fingers along her thigh. "It's…He was helping me the most at the time. With my wheelchair and getting around and everything."

Clarke nodded quietly.

"And he makes boiled peanuts and gives me surfboards." Lexa smiled.

Harper scrunched up her nose. "You boil peanuts? What does that do to them? That sounds-"

"It makes them awesome!" Bellamy bounded in front of her-dripping wet-having caught her question. He slicked his hair back and shook like a dog.

"But they don't get…soggy, or-"

"Oh my-okay, dude, I need to-" Bellamy shook his head, eyes wide with disbelief. He spun in a small circle before grabbing Harper's wrist. "We're gonna make some now. They need to boil for like hours so you're gonna have to stay overnight, but whatever."

"Harper, just kick him if he gets too annoying." Lexa instructed loudly, watching as she hurried across the patio to keep up with Bellamy. "Or smash something. It'll be okay."

"Dump the boiling water on his head." Raven yelled.

Lexa cupped her hands around her mouth. "And make me some sweet potato fries, Boris!"

Clarke watched Bellamy, Harper, and Lincoln disappear through the sliding door. Raven followed, only because those people were her entertainment.

"He's not drunk, right?" Clarke asked about Bellamy. "He won't get Harper caught in some kind of kitchen fire or anything, right?"

Lexa choked on her beer. She coughed and sat forward and shook her head. "Boris knows his way around the kitchen. And he doesn't really drink."

Clarke nodded.

"And Raven would be the one to start a kitchen fire. She actually has."

"Can we get in the water?" Clarke asked abruptly. It was a hot night-the humidity was curling her hair and making it thicker-and the pool water looked cool and clean.

Lexa didn't even reply. She set her beer on the table, pulled the t-shirt over her head, stood up and took two strides before diving into the water in her red shorts and bikini top. She went smoothly-where Clarke would have belly flopped had she tried that-and she surfaced on the other end of the pool and flicked her hair out of her eyes.

Clarke laughed.

Lexa swam easily back to Clarke's end and folded her arms over the pool side. She hummed. "I don't think we can get in the water, Clarke. The owner's a real bitch about it."

"You're not a bitch." Clarke stood up and took off her own shorts and t-shirt.

"You're only saying that so I don't throw you in."

"I'm getting in anyway." Clarke sat on the edge next to Lexa's arms and lowered herself slowly into the water. "That would be useless. I'm saying it because you're not a bitch."

Lexa tipped her head, lantern lights reflected in her eyes. "Why are you going so slowly?"

"I thought it would be colder."

"It's nice, right?" Lexa watched Clarke carefully. The water was cool and comfortable on their sun-reddened skin. It lapped at Lexa's waist-Clarke's abdomen-and Lexa smiled at Clarke's cautious movements. She was acting like a ray or a jellyfish would swim up from underneath her.

"Race me." Lexa smiled, pulling Clarke lightly to the wall. "From here to the other side."

Clarke quickly dunked her head under the water. It was such an innocent act but it set Lexa's heart racing. Clarke wiped her hands over her face when she emerged, slicking back her blonde hair. Lexa fixed her eyes on the opposite side of the pool instead of on the droplets rolling down Clarke's jaw.

"You're basically a lifeguard. How is that fair?" Clarke gripped the edge of the pool.

"I'm not a lifeguard. And my legs hurt." Lexa dipped in the water until only her head was above the surface. She raised an eyebrow at Clarke.

Clarke smiled and brought her feet up to the wall of the pool so that she was ready to push off.

"No cheating." Lexa warned.

"Say when, Woods."

Lexa smirked. She waited a few seconds because Clarke seemed to be vibrating with anticipation. And then, "Go."

Clarke was off. Lexa observed that she'd gone with a sloppy forward stroke, complemented by frantic kicking of her feet. Lexa dropped below the water and pushed off the wall. She kept up easily with Clarke, and then seized Clarke's ankle right before they reached the opposite wall. Clarke squealed and stopped swimming, and Lexa re-surfaced and touched the edge of the pool first.

Clarke rounded on her, sputtering. "You said no cheating!"

Lexa blinked the water out of her eyes and frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Clarke's jaw dropped open. She took Lexa's arms and pushed her back against the wall of the pool, and Lexa grunted in surprise. Clarke pressed against Lexa's shoulders to keep her from squirming away.

"You grabbed my ankle!" she exclaimed.

Lexa's chest heaved. Her skin was hot, but she kept up the confused act. "I don't know what you're talking about, Clarke. Maybe it was an animal? We had an alligator in here once."

Clarke's eyes flickered away like she was actually considering that an alligator had grabbed her ankle.

She decided it wasn't likely.

She turned back to Lexa and realized how close they were. How her fingers dug into the soft skin of Lexa's upper arms, hair splayed messily over their faces, Lexa's sharp jaw and shining eyes watching her carefully. Clarke leaned forward absently. The pool wall was rough against Lexa's back.

"I won. You cheated." Clarke muttered. She felt dizzy and warm.

Lexa exhaled sharply. Clarke's nose bumped against hers-lips parted slightly.

She was spiraling wildly out of her tiny little circle.

Lexa swallowed. "Do it, Clarke Griffin." She murmured.

Clarke's heart pounded. "I want to."

"I know you do."

"I can't." Clarke's grip on Lexa's arms tightened.

"Why not?" Lexa's voice was rough. She couldn't seem to control it. "Because I'm a girl?"

Clarke shook her head immediately. Water dripped down from her hair into her eyes and she blinked. "No. Because I'm a mess."

"So am I. Kiss me, Clarke."

It was a challenge.

Clarke couldn't refuse again. She tipped forward and pressed her lips against Lexa's. They were cool and wet and soft, and Lexa moaned slightly and tilted her head. She wrapped her arms around Clarke's waist and deepened the kiss. Clarke's hand landed on Lexa's jaw, fingertips brushing her ear.

"You smell like Starburst." Lexa breathed when she pulled back.

Clarke's nose pressed against her cheek. "Mango body lotion."

Lexa nodded. She turned them so that Clarke was the one pressed against the wall and kissed her again. She sucked on Clarke's bottom lip and tasted chlorine and vodka. Clarke's legs wrapped around her waist and her arms wrapped around Lexa's neck, and the little whiny noises she was making were sending shots of pleasure right to Lexa's toes.

"We…should stop." Lexa managed to get out when Clarke started kissing her jaw. "They-Bellamy just…barges in everywhere. There's no…everybody will see."

Clarke sucked on the spot right below Lexa's ear, and Lexa gasped and seized the edge of the pool to keep them both upright.

Clarke pulled back to look at her, surprised. Her lips were raw and red and everything tasted like chlorine. "Was that-did you just-"

Lexa shook her head, flushing furiously. "No, I'm-I'm just very unstable right now."

Clarke smiled slowly. She traced a thumb over the spot by Lexa's ear.

"We need-we should get out." Lexa stuttered. "We can have some…some boiled peanuts."

"Okay." Clarke said quietly. She unwound her legs and stood up and gave Lexa another kiss. Their noses knocked clumsily together, and Clarke smiled.

"I still won." Clarke murmured, sloshing slowly to the pool steps with Lexa's hand in hers.

Lexa pressed her lips together. Her head was swimming and fuzzy and she could think of absolutely nothing to say. Nothing was clear. So she focused on Clarke's warm hand and her tingling lips and nothing else.

Clarke handed Lexa a towel and smiled bashfully. The lights sparkled in her eyes and her hair was disheveled and curled, and Lexa dropped the towel and kissed her again. Tiny little circles be damned.

* * *

 and here's the proof of consent.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey here's the update :D i've decided to post a new chapter every tuesday cuz thats when im free so hope you enjoy

Lexa perched on the edge of her bed and bounced lightly to wake Clarke up. They'd shared the bed-after much vodka and boiled peanuts and sweet potato fries-and only because Clarke wouldn't allow Lexa to sleep on the floor in her own home. And with her sketchy back.

Lexa was amused by how somebody with such a huge personality slept in such a tiny little ball. She shook Clarke's shoulder gently and bounced again.

"Oh my-what?" Clarke muttered, voice hoarse.

"Do you need a bucket? I have aspirin and Gatorade. Don't throw up on my sheets, please."

Clarke snorted into her pillow. She realized her face was pressed into a nice spot of drool. "I'm not hungover. It's the middle of the night."

"It's six a.m., actually." Lexa bent forward to tie the laces on her wedges. "I wanted to see if you'd like to come to church with me."

Clarke's eyes flicked over, surprised. Pleased.

"If you do, you need to hop up out of there now." Lexa kept her head down, waiting for her blush to fade. Her church was personal, and Clarke was aware of this. Lexa was opening doors left, right, and center, and she couldn't seem to stop herself.

"I would love to." Clarke agreed, voice rumbly. She sat up and ran a hand through her tangled, humidity-curled hair.

Lexa smiled slightly. "I like it like that."

"You told me."

Lexa nodded. She glanced around the room like she was seeing it for the first time-dark wood floor, white comforter, large sunny windows, two surfboards propped in the corner by the record player-and finally met Clarke's gaze again.

Clarke was smiling. "Are you going to leave so that I can get ready?"

Lexa stood quickly from the bed, nearly tripping over her feet. She took a step for the door, but felt Clarke's hand close around her wrist, tugging her back.

"I, um…Last night…It was fun." Clarke said vaguely-roughly- when Lexa plopped back onto the bed.

Lexa lifted an eyebrow.

Clarke's ears tinged red. "I mean, you don't seem like the type to want to discuss everything, but I…am. Sometimes." Clarke frowned suddenly, hands fisted in the comforter. "I didn't-I didn't dream it, right?"

"Dream what?" Lexa tipped her head, confused.

Clarke looked like she was having some kind of existential crisis, so Lexa had to laugh. She tilted forward and kissed Clarke, knotting her fingers in the blonde tangles at the back of Clarke's head. And then she stood up and flushed and smiled at Clarke's expression, and left the room.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Clarke Griffin. Memory problems, remember?" Lexa called as she walked down the hallway.

She shook her head at herself. Her circle was nowhere to be seen.

Clarke's heart was humming the whole time she was getting dressed. She couldn't seem to stop bouncing or fidgeting, and she put on a simple blue dress and flats and met Lexa in the driveway. Lexa wore a yellow dress and a denim jacket, and it was the first time Clarke had seen her not looking like she'd just rolled out of the ocean.

Lexa didn't even have to ask Clarke to drive. Clarke just smiled softly and took the keys from her hand and climbed into the car.

She decided to follow Lexa's lead, sans the Angelo's guacamole breakfast burrito Lexa forced her to stop and purchase.

The church was modern, moderately sized. The sanctuary was a fairly dark room, like an auditorium, with a low, wide stage where the pulpit stood. There were rows of chairs instead of pews and donuts on a table right outside the door. The worship band played inside and the bass rumbled through the speakers.

Lexa led Clarke through the small crowd, intent on reaching the donuts-aware that Clarke was getting some odd looks-when a woman with auburn hair and smile lines stepped out in front of her. There were two small children at her side and she rested her hands on their heads.

"Lexa, I've been looking for you!"

Lexa stopped short and smiled. "Hi Mayat. How are you?"

"Wonderful, honey. Absolutely wonderful. I've actually found a couple of new students for you!" Maya moved her hands from the kids' heads to their shoulders. The girl bounced on her toes and the boy looked up shyly.

Clarke smiled at them.

"This is Aden and Tris from the youth group." Maya informed.

"Aden and Tris." Lexa echoed. She leaned forward, hands on her knees, eyes narrowed like she was studying them. "And you guys want to learn how to surf?"

"Yes!" Tris declared, smiling brightly.

Aden nodded a little hesitantly.

"Are you totally sure?" Lexa lifted an eyebrow. "Because it's tons of fun. I need to make sure you can handle that. We have to be at the beach every day."

Tris nodded vigorously. "I'm sure!"

"And you'll use tons of sunscreen, and maybe see some fish. Free t-shirts, hot dogs for lunch. My friend will even teach you how to make a surfboard."

"I said I'm sure!" Tris laughed loudly.

"Oh, I'm sorry. I must not have heard!" Lexa smiled. "That's one!"

She looked at the little boy. "You know Aden, I have a little blue foam board that would be perfect for you. If you decide you can handle all this fun, that is."

Clarke suppressed a laugh.

Aden smiled slightly. "I would get a blue one?"

"You would! And, you know," Lexa straightened up and put a hand on the small of Clarke's back. Maya's mouth dropped open in recognition. "This is my friend Clarke. I'm teaching her to surf right now, and she can tell you how much fun it is."

"Lexa is a wonderful teacher." Clarke indulged.

"You'll probably be better surfers than Clarke." Lexa said sagely. "She falls off all the time."

Clarke smacked her in the shoulder and the kids laughed.

"I didn't know you knew Miss Clarke Griffin, Lexa." Maya said, a bit flustered now, smiling at Clarke.

Lexa frowned and tipped her head. "Who's Clarke Griffin?"

Clarke snorted. She'd come to expect that. She jabbed Lexa in the ribs and reached out to shake Maya's hand. When Maya spotted somebody else she needed to talk to, Lexa said goodbye to the kids and took Clarke's hand to lead her into the sanctuary and towards the stage.

She stopped at the bottom of the steps and tapped her thighs, unsure about this next part.

Clarke watched her steadily. "Do we sit down? Or are we going up there?"

"We can-I'm in the choir. So I'm-do you-would you like to sing with me?" Lexa rolled her eyes at herself. "With us, I mean?"

"Do you need to ask me that question?" Clarke teased gently.

Lexa pursed her lips. She led Clarke up the steps and towards the risers on one side of the stage. She smiled at the rest of the choir and whispered introductions, and Clarke blushed and nodded modestly as she was recognized. Lexa settled at the end of the bottom row, shoulder pressed snugly up against Clarke's.

Lexa pulled out a leather hymnbook, flipped it to the right page, and handed it to Clarke.

Clarke started off humming, just until she was comfortable with the tune. Lexa obviously knew the words by heart, and Clarke focused almost entirely on her voice-gentle and lilting and melodic. She didn't know what the protocol was after last night, but she knew this place was special to Lexa. Singing with these people was special.

It had to be, because Lexa's shoes were tied securely and her hair was free of salt and seawater.

Clarke sang easily, quietly, because she could probably overpower the majority of the others at her normal volume.

After three songs, the choir finished and the members took their seats. Lexa put a protective arm around Clarke's waist as they went back down the steps. It should be the last place for anybody to call paparazzi or report a sighting, but more and more people were recognizing Clarke.

Clarke nodded kindly at all of them and let Lexa lead the way.

"I knew you could sing." Clarke murmured when they were seated.

Lexa smiled slightly, side-eyeing her.

"I knew it. Your voice is beautiful. I'm a very good judge about those things."

Lexa's gaze dropped to her lap. Her cheeks burned and she shushed Clarke and tapped her fingers over the hem of dress. Clarke smiled and took Lexa's hand-ignoring her squirming-and pressed it against her lap to hold it still.

* * *

"What was the last number? A five?"

"Put the phone down, Bellamy." Lexa bit out, standing on the opposite side of the coffee table.

Bellamy held the phone off to his side. "Call her, Lexa. You need to call her before she jets off somewhere else for the summer. You know she won't make the first move."

His eyes were earnest, voice low. Lexa exhaled sharply and spun herself in a little circle. She'd come to the shop after a pleasant morning of church and donuts and fallen into his trap.

"I'll dial the number." Bellamy insisted. "I'll be right here, or I'll get lost. Whatever you want."

"I want you to stop pushing this." Lexa ran a hand through her hair. "I'll just-I'll wait until Christmas. I have so many other…things to think about."

Bellamy shook his head resolutely. "Lexa, she wants to see you."

"Then she needs to pick up the damn phone."

"She's scared."

Lexa ground her teeth together, ready to lunge over the table. "It's been years."

"Yeah. Time passed. Things have changed. That crash and the fallout and all that shit was years ago." Bellamy watched Lexa simmer. He plowed on, used to her reactions. "Things were awful. I know."

"You can't-"

"Listen to me." Bellamy said sharply.

Lexa's eyes flashed. She pressed her lips together.

"If your mom is out there, truly sorry and regretful and ready to offer unconditional love and support, I know you don't want to just ignore it." Bellamy held the phone limply in his hand, screen dark.

"I don't think you can. It'll just turn you dark. Darker."

"I'm not dark." Lexa scoffed, fists clenched.

"I will shape a custom thruster for you if you make this call. I'll clean the house, I'll make you sweet potato fries and boiled peanuts, I will do anything for you to call your mother because I know you will turn into an angsty, miserable lump if you don't."

Bellamy shrugged. "Hate your dad. But she loves you, bro."

Lexa's cheeks burned. Her eyes watered and she swiped at them with her hand. She shuffled in another tiny circle and Bellamy pretended that he couldn't see her crying.

"You think she'll want to come down here?" Lexa finally asked, voice wavering.

Bellamy nodded.

"If she does, and she's still the same, I won't-I can't-I won't be able to take it."

"I know." Bellamy said quietly.

Lexa pressed her fists into her eyes until they stopped watering. She tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling. "You can't just ambush me like that." She muttered.

"You know it's the only way. But I'd never actually call her for you."

Lexa's mind had been on Clarke. Specifically, Clarke's face when Lexa mentioned that alligators roam the beach all the time-which they didn't, obviously-and Lexa was learning how to elicit the funniest facial expressions.

Lexa didn't say anything. She sighed heavily-until her throat was clear and she felt like she could breathe again-and held out her hand for the phone.

Bellamy nearly tripped over himself trying to pass it to her. Lexa rolled her eyes.

"So I'll be-I'll go-" Bellamy stuttered and pointed towards the door.

"You stay, Bellamy." Lexa instructed.

He nodded slightly and dropped back onto the couch. Lexa paced in her tiny little circles and dialed the number.

* * *

Clarke gasped at the feeling of the doorknob jammed into her back. Lexa hummed sympathetically-but not really-and shifted her over slightly and then covered Clarke's mouth with her own. It was morning, dawn and dark, so everything was minty fresh. Lexa's hands roamed along the hem of Clarke's rashguard and Clarke's knotted in dark hair.

Clarke arched lightly when Lexa's teeth pulled on her bottom lip. She hadn't planned this-a heated make out session before her surf lesson-and out of context it would seem like a horrible idea.

A what in the world are you thinking, Clarke Griffin?

But Lexa's hands were warm and confident on her sides, and she tilted her head just so and ran her tongue along Clarke's teeth, and Clarke was just mush held up by a yellow door.

Lexa shifted so that her thigh was between Clarke's legs and Clarke gasped against Lexa's neck. "Okay, that's-I think we need-let's go-go have our lesson." Clarke stuttered.

Lexa drew her thigh away, dark eyes smiling.

Clarke searched for composure. "You're-you're in a very good mood this morning."

Lexa nodded.

"Sleep well?" Clarke's voice was rough. She cleared her throat.

Lexa shrugged. "Maybe." Her lips tipped up. "Maybe it's other things. Maybe I like kissing you. You know, I can give you a lesson right here."

"Lexa."

Lexa chuckled because Clarke looked so scandalized. Clarke pulled away and rubbed at her face, willing for her cheeks to cool down.

"Just-can we go to the beach now?" she asked, nearly begging.

She decided that she needed to get out of there before she did something stupid. Again.

Lexa nodded easily. She fixed her own hair and straightened her shorts, and then opened the door Clarke had been leaning against. She held it open and smiled as Clarke slipped through, head tucked down.

Clarke's lesson involved learning how to bail-to jump off the board at the right time without having it run right into her head or jerk her under the water. She'd hold her nose every time she jumped off, which amused Lexa. Clarke's head rarely even went under the water.

"It burns when it goes in your nose." Clarke defended, huffing at Lexa's laughter.

"Your hair isn't even wet. It'll clear your sinuses right out."

Clarke grimaced.

Lexa leaned in conspiratorially, water lapping at their knees. "You're not a surfer until you've been pummeled, you know. Put through the ringer, like a washing machine."

Clarke jutted out her chin. "Take me out to the big waves."

Lexa hummed. "And though she be but little, she is fierce."

Clarke blinked at her.

"Shakespeare. It's-"

"Oh my God." Clarke interrupted, looking over Lexa's shoulder to the shore.

Lexa spun around immediately. She frowned at the sight-two men with cameras standing right on the sand, out in the open. They were obviously pointed at Clarke, and Lexa turned around and shifted to block their view.

The guys just walked a few feet down the beach to fix their angle.

"What do you want to do?" Lexa murmured.

She searched Clarke's face. She looked calm, maybe a little angry because she was clenching her jaw a bit. Clarke held up her hand and smiled tightly at the paparazzi.

"Let's go back to the shop." Clarke said through her teeth. "Just calmly pick up our stuff and don't say anything."

Lexa nodded.

"I'm sorry. I don't know how they found me."

Lexa shrugged. "It's okay. Your face is prized, Clarke Griffin."

Lexa reached under the water to unstrap Clarke's leash. She squeezed Clarke's calf before standing up and doing the stingray shuffle to the shore. The paparazzi kept about five feet away as Lexa grabbed her backpack and Clarke put on her flip-flops. Lexa kept herself glued to Clarke's side, poised and ready to throw the expensive cameras into the ocean.

"Good morning, Clarke! So you surf now? Is this for a movie? Or a therapy program?"

Lexa managed to keep her face impassive as she tied the leash around the surfboard's tail.

"Who's your friend, Clarke?"

"Was this trip to Florida planned? What are you doing about Anything Goes? Did something happen to make you skip town?"

They kept firing off questions as Clarke and Lexa reached the dunes at the top of the beach. Clarke walked quickly, purposefully-lips quirked slightly up but eyes blazing. Lexa followed along at an easy stride. She found it easy to ignore idiots, until she caught where they were walking out of the corner of her eye.

"Hey, watch the sea turtle nests." She said sharply, stopping abruptly.

The two guys halted and looked around, delighted that she was talking. "What was that?"

"Back off the orange tape, dumbass." Lexa bit out. "They're sea turtle nests. Are you illiterate?"

Perhaps she'd be less venomous if these pudgy, orange men in floral shirts showed any sliver of respect.

She gestured at the bright yellow sign and the guy laughed loudly. Lexa was about to put the longboard down when she felt Clarke's soft hand on her arm.

"Lexa, come on. It's okay."

"Yeah, keep your friend in check, Clarke!" One of the guys laughed.

Clarke cut her eyes over to them. "My friend will throw your goddamn cameras in the ocean if you don't back away from the nests. I can call the police if you'd like. Sea turtles are protected by state law."

Lexa's brow lifted in surprise.

"What happened to your leg, Clarke?" One of the guys asked, even as they moved away from the nest-probably because Clarke looked ready to attack them. "Bad trip?"

Clarke didn't move, so Lexa put an arm around her shoulders and nudged her forward gently. They walked up the beach access path, heads down.

"They're such…assholes." Clarke muttered once they hit the pavement and left the paparazzi behind.

Lexa hummed in agreement. She ducked her head to make sure Clarke wasn't crying or anything.

"You know, sea turtles are my favorite animal."

Clarke smiled slightly. "Are they?"

They hit the gravel parking lot of Jupiter Surf and Lexa stepped lightly in her bare feet. "I've watched the hatchlings go all the way to the water before, scuttling along. You'd love it. I'll show you sometime."

Clarke smiled gratefully up at Lexa. She kissed her cheek right inside the yellow door and then disappeared through the back for a shower.

Lexa dropped the longboard and set off to find her employees. Nobody asking for Clarke Griffin would be allowed inside the shop.

* * *

Clarke could feel Raven's eyes boring into the side of her head. She cleared her throat awkwardly and focused on the box of shoes she was sorting through.

Raven haphazardly tossed several flip flops into a pile. "So...Griffin." She said casually.

Clarke had six neat stacks in front of her, all for different brands and types of shoes. She piled them up meticulously and then subdivided them based on size.

"Yes, Raven?"

"I'm surprised." Raven mused. "You don't totally suck at this job."

"Well…Thank you." Clarke watched Raven throw a single slip-on canvas shoe onto her pile. She decided not to point out the inconsistencies in whatever method Raven was using.

"How long are you staying?"

"I told Lexa two months."

Raven side-eyed her. "Two months."

Clarke nodded.

"And then you'll go back to LA or New York or wherever." Raven clarified.

Again, Clarke nodded. "Yes, that's my plan."

Raven looked away and pursed her lips. She violently ripped open a new box and dumped all of the flip-flops onto the stockroom floor. Clarke kept to her sorting and stacking, not really sure what to do. She didn't know Raven very well, so maybe this was normal behavior.

"You know, Lex smelled like mangoes this morning." Raven stated, cutting her eyes to Clarke.

Clarke blinked.

"Kind of like that fucking fruity, sweet stuff you wear."

"…Oh." Clarke wondered if Raven knew more than she was letting on. "Okay?"

Raven stared at her. "You know I'm not blind, right? You may be a goddamn movie star, but you can't just mess with-"

"I'm not messing with anybody." Clarke cut in quickly.

She wasn't really sure what she was doing, actually. For once in her life she was just rolling.

Raven narrowed her eyes and studied Clarke. She held two different kinds of shoes in her hand, neither of which seemed to have a match.

"She doesn't do casual." Raven finally said, less malice in her voice. Clarke assumed she was talking about Lexa.

"But everybody else does. So Lexa's the one who ends up stupid and lonely and angry, and I'm the one making sure she doesn't drink herself into a stupor and die trying to surf in the middle of the night."

Raven's gaze was hard. Clarke held it seriously.

"And-I mean-we don't even know why you're here." Raven turned back to her messy piles of shoes. "You could have killed somebody or some shit like that."

"I have never committed a crime in my life." Clarke said quietly.

Raven shrugged. "You look like the type."

Clarke smiled wryly. "I don't know what you think you know, but I'm really not trying to mess with anybody. You-everybody here has been great to me."

Raven nodded vaguely. Clarke opened the last box of shoes and started adding pairs to her meticulous piles. They worked in silence for several minutes until a thought occurred to Clarke.

She tipped her head and glanced at Raven. "What was Lexa like in high school? And college?"

Raven laughed abruptly. She surveyed Clarke with a raised brow. "Seriously?"

Clarke nodded eagerly.

"She was stupid, angry, and lonely in high school." Raven said bluntly. "She was head cheerleader, valedictorian, insanely fucking successful but absolutely miserable."

Clarke frowned sadly.

Raven squinted at her curiously. "What has she told you about her family?"

"Not…anything, really."

Raven hummed. "Course not." She muttered.

"What was that?" Clarke leaned forward.

Raven shook her head. "She sang, she danced, she was little miss perfect over-achiever for three years of college."

Clarke chuckled.

"What has she told you about after college?" Raven wondered.

Clarke decided there must be much more to Lexa's story if Raven had to keep checking what she knew-making sure she didn't reveal anything that Lexa didn't want her to.

"She told me…about the accident. And how she was paralyzed and she moved here with you guys." Clarke described. "And Bellamy taught her to surf."

Raven hummed.

"Is there more?" Clarke asked cautiously.

Raven laughed. "Griffin, Lexa is a dictionary of issues. I love that idiot like a sister, but there's always more. She never caught a break."

"Oh, dude," Bellamy leaned against the doorway and waved when Clarke and Raven turned to look at him. "You talkin' about her parents? Man, if I've ever seen-"

"Bellamy, what the hell?" Raven threw a shoe at his face. He deflected it with his arms. "Get lost."

Bellamy pouted and rubbed at his arm. "Lexa's looking for you, Clarke."

Clarke popped up, leaving her shoes in their neat stacks. She patted Bellamy's shoulder as she left the room and found Lexa standing in the grass just outside the yellow door of the lounge. Lexa smiled at her and quickly kissed the corner of her mouth.

"Have lunch with me?" she asked quietly.

Clarke's heart fluttered. She nodded. "Raven said you smell like mangoes."

Lexa frowned-and then groaned-as they crossed the gravel parking lot. She smelled the front of her shirt and grimaced. "It's that Starburst smell, Clarke. It contaminates me."

"It's mango body lotion." Clarke laughed.

Lexa sighed.

"You wouldn't smell like that if you weren't trying to kiss me all the time." Clarke reminded.

"Maybe I should stop." Lexa was only half joking.

Clarke looked up at her curiously, a little smug. "I don't think you can."

Lexa chose not to answer. Whether she could stop or not was irrelevant, because she'd be forced to soon enough. Right now, she liked kissing Clarke and she was hungry for one of Octavia's cheeseburgers.

She ran a hand through her salty hair and smiled at Clarke. "I don't think you want me to."

* * *

 and here's the proof of consent.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys remember if you have anything nice to say, say it to the original author too! they're elly-bells on tumblr. enjoy :)

Lexa nearly choked when Clarke's fingers slipped under the red waistband of her shorts. She staggered back into the shower wall-temporarily blinded by the sun-and jammed her heel into the wooden slats. Clarke chuckled against her throat and dragged a single finger up Lexa's side. It left a pale path in the sun-darkened skin.

She consciously lingered on one of Lexa's scars, and Lexa shook her head and tipped unsteadily forward for Clarke's lips again.

They were gritty and soaked and pressed up against the splintery wall of an outdoor shower, but Lexa was one breathy little moan away from pulling on the knot of Clarke's bikini and dropping to her knees.

Her own shorts were twisted sideways, and she was pretty sure her rashguard was lying in a wet pile on the beach.

"I love your hair." Lexa rumbled, twisting so that Clarke was the one pressed against the wooden shower slats.

Clarke chuckled against her mouth. "I know."

Lexa dragged her fingers through the blonde, tangled locks. Clarke's hair smelled like saltwater, curly and wild. Lexa's fingers caught in a knot and Clarke hummed at the feeling.

"You should…take this off." Lexa breathed. She ran her thumbs along the strap of Clarke's bikini.

"Bellamy's going to barge in."

Lexa shook her head. "He's…building something. Or doing something."

"Then Raven. Or Lincoln."

Clarke stared up at the sky to catch her breath. She kept her hands on Lexa's sides-warm and slightly sticky from the ocean-and groaned lowly when Lexa's mouth dropped to her collarbone.

"They'll knock." Lexa said thickly, staring at the red marks she'd trailed down Clarke's neck.

She decided it was worth the sand in her mouth, the grit between her teeth.

"Okay!" Clarke declared when Lexa's fingers slid smoothly under her bikini strap. She knocked her elbows into the wall in her haste to seize Lexa's wrists. "O-okay. Just-let's-we need to stop."

Lexa stared blankly, chest heaving.

"It's…not…" Clarke licked her lips and glanced away, gathering her thoughts.

Once she got past Lexa's thigh pressing against her own, Lexa's fingers wrapped warmly around her upper arms, all she could see was the last time she'd been carried away.

"What?" Lexa panted, searching her face.

Clarke couldn't look at Lexa's lips, salt and sun-chapped and swollen, because she'd be drawn right back in. She couldn't look at her slicked dark hair or the skin above or below those faded red shorts.

"Is there something in your eye?" Lexa gripped Clarke's chin and tilted her face up to check. "Sand? I'll help you wash it out."

"No, no. I just…need to stop."

Lexa nodded. She let go of Clarke's face, but it was a moment before she stepped back because her legs felt too weak to support her weight. She turned on the water for the shower and studied Clarke while it warmed.

She seemed to be looking at every detail of the shower-the flip flops in the corner, sand around the edges, trees on the other side of the wooden slats-just to avoid glancing at Lexa. Lexa tipped her head, curious. A little smug.

"You alright?" Lexa drawled, rinsing the sand from her ankles.

Clarke hummed vaguely.

"Yeah? Are you sure?"

Clarke didn't reply, and Lexa straightened up under the stream of water, watching her carefully. She washed the sand from her hair while Clarke picked at the grit under her nails.

"Did I do something wrong?" Lexa raised an eyebrow. "Have you lost your voice? You definitely had it earlier."

Clarke bit her cheek. "Lexa."

Lexa smiled slightly.

"You haven't done anything." Clarke assured.

"Why won't you look at me?"

Clarke laughed shakily. She cleared her throat and met Lexa's eyes. Her dark gaze sent a shockwave through Clarke. Lexa smiled knowingly at her discomfort.

"I think…we probably need to talk." Clarke managed, frowning at the high pitch of her voice. "About something."

"Something." Lexa echoed.

"Yes."

"So…manatees?" Lexa pulled a towel from the fence to dry her hair. "I like them, personally. Definitely pro-manatee. They're endangered. Related to dugongs."

Clarke sighed, smiling slightly.

Lexa put on a Jupiter Surf t-shirt and patted down her hair. "Talk to me about sweet potatoes, Clarke Griffin. Gorgeous orange fries."

"You are…ridiculous." Clarke stepped under the shower flow to rinse her own hair.

Lexa was distracted by her arched back, the smooth skin of her thighs. Her eyes widened and she decided Clarke had to be purposely posing like that.

"You want to talk about something else?" Lexa asked absently.

"Please."

Lexa nodded. She pried her eyes away a moment later and pushed open the door to the shop. "Should I be worried?"

She was only half-joking. She grabbed her shortboard out of the corner of the shower and tucked it under her arm.

Clarke smiled softly and shook her head.

"Then I'll be in here when you're ready. Somewhere around." Lexa informed. Clarke just nodded at her. Lexa finally stepped back through the door, scraping the fins of her shortboard along the wall like she'd done so many times before.

She dropped it into the corner of the lounge, drank half a bottle of water, and then fell onto the couch to wait for Clarke.

* * *

Lexa was curled up and snoring into the couch cushions when Clarke came out of the shower. Clarke laughed quietly at the sight and sat in the armchair to type the Pro-Am schedule into Lexa's computer.

She was about half an hour into it, entering "Sunday, 4 PM: Awards Ceremony and Closing Party- Jupiter Beach Pier," when Lexa shifted and stretched. She groaned loudly, and Clarke could just imagine how she looked, so she kept her eyes on the laptop screen.

"Why don't you participate in the surf contest?" she wondered distractedly.

Lexa blinked against the light and rubbed at the sand on her arms. "What?"

"You can surf. You should compete."

"Mm. No."

Clarke smiled. "Not as a professional, but…look." She spun the laptop for Lexa to see. "Women's amateur, eighteen to thirty-four division. Have you tried competing before?"

Lexa glanced at the screen. "I don't want to."

"But you've tried?"

Clarke looked over at Lexa when she didn't receive an answer. Lexa was confused-nothing new-and she ran a hand through her hair as she searched for her glasses. She hadn't slept on them, and they weren't on her head.

"What are you doing?" Clarke asked.

"Have you seen-I think I was wearing my glasses, but I can't find them."

Clarke watched her search. "You weren't wearing them when you fell asleep."

Lexa stopped lifting and examining pillows, brow furrowed.

"Lexa, you've only been there for half an hour." Clarke chuckled.

"Oh." Lexa sank back into the cushions and propped her bare feet on the coffee table. "Okay. I thought-that's right, we were surfing. And then…"

Lexa's eyes cleared and she smirked. "Showering."

Clarke watched her behavior curiously.

"And no, I've never competed and I'm not going to start now." Lexa shook her head. "But I'm sure we can stick you in a grom division if you'd like. You'll blend right in with the kiddies."

Clarke scoffed and turned back to the laptop. "Just so you know, you have sand stuck to half your face."

"You wanted to talk to me, right?" Lexa lifted her t-shirt to rub it against her cheek. "Not about manatees or sweet potatoes."

"Right."

"Well, I'm awake."

Clarke shut the laptop and turned to face Lexa. She had no plan, no point, just things to sort through. A tangled mess of things that she'd probably just make worse. Lexa watched intently.

"Raven told me you don't do casual." Was the first thing that made it out of Clarke's mouth.

Lexa recoiled slightly, eyes narrowed.

"Which-I mean-I don't know how else you'd describe what we've been doing." Clarke managed. She fiddled with the hem of her shorts because Lexa was just staring at her. "And I'm pretty sure Raven's harboring suspicions that I'm a murderer."

"You talked to Raven?"

Clarke hummed. "She talked…at me."

Lexa's gaze hadn't wavered. Clarke could see glittery specks of sand on her cheeks.

"She told you-God, Clarke, don't listen to Raven." Lexa sat back against the cushions and shook her head. Her friends were fools.

"I…think she's right." Clarke hedged.

Lexa stared again. "Really." Her lips quirked. "About the murderer part? Because that's the only part I'd believe."

"I don't understand why everybody thinks I've committed some crime!" Clarke nearly shrieked.

Lexa was unaffected. "Because we don't know where you came from. You tripped over me, called me a bitch, got stung by a man o' war, and now you're here."

Clarke sighed.

"And just because I don't do casual," Lexa put finger quotes around the words, "doesn't mean I don't want to keep…I like this."

"I'm leaving in less than three weeks." Clarke said bluntly.

Lexa cut her eyes over. "And I have a dental check-up next month. Who gives a damn? Live for now."

"People will see us. People will talk."

"People are idiots. I'll follow your lead."

Clarke laughed, exasperated. "You are…very frustrating." She tipped her head back against the chair and closed her eyes.

Lexa nodded shortly.

"Casual is fine." Clarke mused softly. "You know, as long as nobody falls in love."

Lexa was silent for a minute, wondering if Clarke was making a point. She decided she couldn't tell and would make a fool of herself if she assumed. She shrugged and smiled slightly. "Some people make it so easy."

Clarke couldn't really handle reading anything into that remark. Lexa's smirk was telling. Clarke sighed and resigned herself to what she was about to do.

"Let's have dinner." She declared. Lexa's brows lifted. "No sweet potatoes, no peanuts. And I'll-maybe if I tell you why I'm here you'll stop suspecting that I've killed people."

A slow smile spread over Lexa's face. "Are you taking me out, Clarke Griffin?"

"No."

Lexa stood up and walked to Clarke's chair. She leaned over, hands resting on one of the arms, and ducked to catch Clarke's gaze. "Are you absolutely positive?"

Clarke nodded shortly.

"Raven was right, you know." Lexa murmured, not budging an inch. "I don't do casual. But I don't think it's casual when the other person feels exactly the same way as I do."

Clarke nodded again. She managed to breathe when Lexa backed off and stood up straight.

Lexa smiled down at her. "I'm meeting Boris about a sponsor right now. You pick the place tonight."

Clarke couldn't stop nodding. Lexa chuckled to herself and headed for the door, trying to untangle her hair on the way.

"Your face is still covered in sand," was all she heard from Clarke. It was loud and shaky, and Lexa smiled.

* * *

Clarke walked into the lounge at exactly 6 p.m., bags and baskets of food in hand. She'd realized belatedly that she didn't know any restaurants in the area, so she decided on an outdoor dinner-a picnic. Sweet and simple.

And then she considered that a picnic in Florida just involved sitting in a muggy swamp and being eaten by mosquitoes. Maybe alligators?

So Clarke was a little frantic when she strode through the yellow door and spied Lexa and Raven on the couch.

"You know, you don't usually have to bring your own food to a restaurant." Lexa remarked. She'd obviously made some kind of effort, in a skirt and actual lace-up shoes, even though she'd been explicitly told this was not a date.

Or maybe the shoes were just so unfamiliar on her that it only seemed like she'd made an effort.

Raven narrowed her eyes at Clarke.

"I realized that I'm not exactly familiar with the restaurants in the area yet." Clarke explained, ignoring Lexa's smirk. "So I packed our dinner. I'm sorry, I was going to pick somewhere for seafood, but…I should have allotted more time to plan this."

Lexa shrugged easily. "Not a date."

"Lexa doesn't like seafood." Raven stated bluntly, eyes still narrowed.

Clarke looked to Lexa, surprised. "But you live on the beach."

"And you live in Los Angeles." Lexa smiled. "Do you eat celebrities?"

Clarke scoffed. She stiffened slightly when Raven got up from the couch and walked towards her. Raven stopped inches away, staring down at her, even though Clarke was only slightly shorter. Clarke lifted her chin and tried not to step back.

"Griffin."

Clarke cleared her throat. "Raven."

Raven nodded and continued through the yellow door.

Lexa chuckled when they were alone, head tipped back against the couch. She watched Clarke relax.

"She'll get softer. She has a date tonight."

Clarke nodded. She observed Lexa's slouched form and lifted a brow. "Are you going to get up anytime soon? Or would you prefer to lie there all night?"

Lexa stood up-groaning exaggeratedly- and balanced against the couch to pry the shoes from her feet. She pointed at the flats Clarke was wearing. "You won't need those."

"Are you choosing our picnic spot?" Clarke asked warily.

"I am."

"And we won't need shoes?"

"We won't." Lexa crossed the room and took one of the bags from Clarke's hands. She shook it around curiously, watching Clarke's face. Clarke kept it blank.

"Will I like what you've scrounged up?"

Clarke shrugged and headed out the door. "It's too bad if you don't. More for me."

Lexa laughed to herself. She followed Clarke outside and guided her towards the familiar path to the beach. Clarke was unsurprised with the direction. The sun was only just starting to set as they reached the dune line. Lexa usually went right-towards the pier to surf-but she turned left tonight and led Clarke about a hundred yards down the beach.

"How far are we going?" Clarke wondered when Lexa showed no signs of stopping.

Lexa bobbled her head. "All the way, probably."

"What does that even mean?"

Lexa spun and walked backwards for a few steps, skirt flowing lightly in the breeze. She shrugged at Clarke and swung her bag of food alarmingly high. "What are you talking about?"

Clarke shook her head.

"Actually, right here." Lexa stopped abruptly. She set the food lightly on the sand and reached for Clarke, guiding her towards a sea turtle nest marked off by neon orange tape. It was at the base of the dune, and it looked exactly the same as three other nests they'd passed.

Lexa's fingers were light on the small of Clarke's back as they observed it. Clarke awwed, even though all she could see was sand.

"This is marked from last month, so they should be hatching soon." Lexa explained quietly.

"Tonight?"

"Anytime." Lexa shrugged. "If you come back often enough you're bound to see it happen."

Clarke nodded.

"I thought we could dine with the turtles." Lexa smiled. She let go of Clarke and plucked the blanket from the basket, and Clarke helped her set it on the sand several yards from the nest. Then she sat down, legs stretched out in front of her, and waited expectantly for Clarke to feed her.

"I brought pasta salad, banana bread, and tempeh sushi rolls, all vegan." Clarke described, pulling small containers from her bags. "There's a strawberry fizz cocktail, probably heavy on the gin, and regular lemonade."

Lexa nodded easily with each new gift.

Clarke smiled slightly and pulled the last container from the bag, watching Lexa's reaction. "And sweet potato fries."

Lexa grinned. Her cheeks warmed and she caught Clarke's gaze, nodding her thanks.

"Changed your mind, huh?" Lexa murmured.

Clarke hummed casually. "I just don't feel like dealing with a petulant child all night."

Lexa was so focused on removing the top of the box of fries that she missed the comment. She stuffed several in her mouth and moaned loudly, and then grabbed a paper plate to fill with pasta and banana bread.

Clarke watched her, pleased and amused.

She poured out their drinks and prepared her own plate. The waves were quiet and the sun was dropping, and she realized mosquitoes and mugginess weren't really problems by the ocean.

"You were going to tell me who you killed, right?" Lexa wondered, hand over her mouth.

She'd been watching Clarke watch the waves-curly haired, red faced, tan lines on her shoulders. So different from the Clarke who fell into her a couple weeks ago. Who called her an inconsiderate bitch and then came crawling back for medical attention. Lexa smiled.

Clarke chewed on her pasta and plucked her banana bread into little pieces. "I want you to know what you've gotten yourself into, because I'm really not-I mean, you'll probably see me as a different person after this."

Lexa watched her silently.

"I know I do." Clarke laughed wryly.

"I doubt I will." Lexa sandwiched a handful of fries between two slices of banana bread and took a bite. She gazed challengingly at Clarke, daring her to just say it. To spit it out.

Clarke decided it was a nice night for a breakdown.

"I slept with the casting director of Anything Goes."

The only sign that Lexa heard her was a brief pause in chewing. She watched Clarke intently.

"Not because he was the casting director." Clarke explained hurriedly. "It just-he was-it had nothing to do with work." She took a sip from her drink and coughed a bit.

"No judgement, Clarke. Slow yourself." Lexa said calmly. She nodded at Clarke's food. "Eat and talk. It's okay."

Clarke searched her face. Clear eyes, sharp chin, cheeks full of food. Lexa looked fine so far, so she continued.

"We…had met several times about the movie, and he's-he's very charming. And talented, and incredibly full of himself."

Lexa grimaced slightly.

"I really wasn't myself. I was constantly working, not sleeping, trying to please everybody but pleasing nobody." Clarke took a bite of her pasta, staring at her lap. "Finn-that's his name, Finn Collins-we met at a bar to discuss the role. We were drinking, and I'm pretty sure I started singing."

Lexa chuckled into her drink.

Clarke sighed. "It's not funny."

Lexa's smile dropped immediately. "Sorry, you're right."

"He came home with me, and we were talking about our dream roles and our favorite musicals, and he just-we just…" Clarke frowned and shook her head. It wasn't even clear in her mind. "I fell out of bed at three in the morning and he'd already left."

Lexa watched her carefully. She leaned forward to catch her gaze and discovered that the sight of Clarke crying was incredibly saddening, like nothing before.

Clarke swiped at her eyes and laughed shortly. "I had…I slept with the producer and casting director of Anything Goes. The perfect role for me." She took a deep breath, unable to hold Lexa's gaze. "I think I lost my mind, I was such an idiot. I had to leave."

"You weren't an idiot." Lexa murmured.

Clarke rubbed her hands over her eyes until she was sure she could stop crying. Lexa scooted closer and rested a warm hand on her knee.

"Has he said anything to you about it?" she asked softly. "Is he trying to use it against you?"

Clarke shook her head quickly.

"And you were okay? When it happened? And you're okay now?"

Clarke nodded, warmed by Lexa's concerned tone. "It had nothing to do with the role. They'd already offered it to me. I was just being stupid."

Lexa scoffed quietly. "You weren't stupid."

"I got caught up. I think I'm different now."

Lexa was silent for a while. She rubbed Clarke's knee absently and stared at the waves. Really, this revelation had changed nothing. Everybody rolls a little off course sometimes. Lexa had rolled all the way down to Florida.

"It hasn't changed anything. It's not who you are." Lexa finally said, reaching for more fries.

Clarke smiled sadly at her. "You met me two weeks ago, Lexa. You don't know."

"I do, actually."

Clarke's smile faded to confusion, and then curiosity. She tipped her head and stared at the side of Lexa's face.

Lexa licked her lips. This would blast her circle to bits.

"I met you in high school. Once." She admitted quietly-sheepishly-because it was such a random thing to hold so closely to her heart.

Clarke's jaw slowly dropped.

"At a glee competition. You sang 'Don't Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes.'" Lexa dumped sweet potato fries into her pasta just to have something to do with her hands. "By Perry Como, and then Dean Martin. Don't let the stars get in your eyes, don't let the moon break your heart."

Clarke's gaze- wide eyed and red rimmed-was fixed on Lexa's face.

Lexa ran a hand through her hair, realized her hand was coated with grease, and then grimaced and wiped at her face with her arm. She smiled hopelessly and glanced at Clarke.

"You know, I think you think I'm joking when I tell you I have memory problems."

Clarke's mouth dropped open further. "What?"

"The first time I ever saw your name was in your high school glee club's program." Lexa continued, half-smiling. "Clarke Griffin, team captain. I stopped you in the hall-on a whim, or something- and told you your voice was beautiful, and you thanked me and offered an autograph, which I didn't get."

Clarke's eyes darted around, confused. "You-I can't believe-what-"

"Your name stuck with me, Clarke Griffin." Lexa tipped forward and took a bite of her pasta salad fry mixture. She bobbled her head, pleased with it.

"And your voice. I forgot some things after the accident." Lexa's voice was low and even. She watched wide brown eyes. "But that song you sang just stuck. I don't even know why. Boris calls me scatter-brained, jackass, but Clarke Griffin never goes away."

Clarke pressed a hand over her mouth.

Lexa had tokens to remember things. Her cross, the stickers on her board. Clarke thought over her habits-loose and laid back, shoeless, messy. She scooted right next to Lexa and wrapped both arms tightly around her waist.

"That's right." Lexa's voice was rough, but smiling. She was reeling with what she'd just done-a little stunned at herself- and she rubbed a hand over Clarke's back. "You just latched on, Clarke Griffin. I can't get rid of you."

"Seriously? Because I'm trying to push you away!" Clarke laughed desperately. She pressed her face against Lexa's shoulder and tried to process everything.

"I'm not going away."

"Why didn't you tell me you knew me? Or you'd met me?"

Lexa ducked her head. She took another bite of her food with Clarke's arms still wrapped around her waist. "You wouldn't have remembered." She mumbled. Clarke watched her cheeks turn pink in the setting sun. "And it was…I don't know, special to me. Or something."

Lexa cringed internally. It was the only way to describe something that stuck in her head for nearly eight years. Special. And stupid.

"I owe you an autograph." Clarke said softly.

Lexa's lips quirked. "You have given me much better than an autograph."

"Have you followed my career this whole time?"

Lexa cleared her throat and filled her mouth with fries. She shrugged casually, and Clarke chuckled against her shoulder.

"I know you're still you, Clarke." Lexa said after a moment. "No matter what you think you messed up. The Clarke Griffin who got herself stung by a man o' war and came crying to me is the same girl who offered me an autograph when I told her she had a nice voice."

"Beautiful voice." Clarke corrected quietly.

Lexa rolled her eyes. "Terrible voice."

"I don't know what to do now."

"Be Reno Sweeney." Lexa shrugged. "Drink your strawberry stuff, eat your fishy stuff, help me with the Pro-Am, and be Reno Sweeney."

Clarke absently kissed Lexa's shoulder. "That's not what I meant."

Lexa hummed. She turned her head so that her nose brushed against Clarke's. She kissed her lips, clumsily because of the angle-tasting gin and saltwater- and smiled at the little noise Clarke made.

"Then Clarke Griffin, I have no idea what you're talking about."

* * *

 and here's the proof of consent.


	9. Chapter 9

"They know where you are, Clarke. They have found you, and they'll be coming for you soon."

Clarke rolled her eyes at Miller's dramatics.

"People accept that you're on a vacation," Miller continued, "and not having some kind of alcoholic, drug-induced breakdown, thank God, but they want pictures. They want the whole story. Those two guys on the beach the other day are nothing compared to what could be coming."

Clarke rubbed her hand over her face and sighed. Miller had been doing all the talking since she'd answered the phone five minutes ago-in the middle of the night, again, because Miller refused to respect the time zone difference.

"And what could be coming, Miller?" she asked reluctantly, staring at her reflection in the sliding glass door.

"We're going to keep playing this like a vacation. You're meeting up with old friends."

Clarke smiled slightly. That was sort of true.

"So everything you do needs to support that story." Miller dragged out the statement, spelling it out for a child. "Always assume somebody's taking a picture. Assume they're listening and watching, because they will be."

"Miller, come on." Clarke glanced around her hotel room, paranoid.

"I'm serious, Clarke. I don't exactly know this Lexa Woods,"

Clarke could hear the smile in his voice.

"But I know that you know to keep whatever you're doing with her out of the light." Miller paused. "Right? I'm right, right? Tell me I'm right. I need to know if Harper's feeding me false information again."

"Lexa and I aren't…" Clarke shook her head. "I mean, you're not wrong."

A muffled shriek came through the phone.

"But it's not like we're having sex on the pier and planning out our future together."

"Good." Miller said resolutely. "I could do without the mental image, but good. Because I need you home in two weeks."

Clarke's breath hitched. She blinked at her reflection in the sliding door- sweats and a t-shirt, curly hair, eyes wide.

"You have an audition." Miller plowed on. "A twisted romantic comedy, sort of dark if you look in the right places. I sent you the script in case you pass on Anything Goes."

"I…" Clarke tangled a hand in her hair and groaned silently. "That's not-"

"Oh, and I'd love a decision about Anything Goes within the next ten years, please."

"I still have four weeks left here, Miller." Clarke spun in an anxious little circle by her bed. "I'm not coming back early."

"Are you doing Anything Goes?"

Clarke paced towards the door and searched for her shoes. "I don't know. But I'm not doing some silly little rom com in its place."

Miller sighed like he'd expected nothing less. "If you came home sooner I'd have a lot less to deal with, you know. We could put all this bad press behind us. I wouldn't have to spin every single story that crosses my desk. Talk about future projects, get your fans excited for something. Please think about it."

Clarke clenched her jaw, grabbed her room key, and headed out the door.

"Two weeks." Miller repeated. His voice softened. "You two still have some time."

"Maybe." Clarke mumbled. It was all she could get out without throwing her phone against the wall or breaking down in the elevator. She'd been counting on four more weeks. The thought of cutting that in half made her throat close up.

"Just let me know, sweetie. I'll be waiting."

Clarke hung up as she crossed the lobby. It occurred to her that she'd brought nothing-no ID, no bag, no cash-and her shoes were still soaked from the rain she'd run through earlier.

The cool night air allowed her to breathe, and to decide that no, she wouldn't even consider Miller's idea. For now. She walked quickly because now she'd be forever paranoid that she was being stalked. She smiled automatically when she hit the gravel of Jupiter Surf.

The yellow side door wasn't locked, and Clarke rolled her eyes as she pushed it open. Mars was lying on top of the armchair, eyes glowing in the light from the moon. He blinked lazily and rolled to the side, obviously not the guard cat Lexa trusted him to be.

Clarke shut and locked the door, and then crept quietly towards the couch.

"Oh no," Lexa mumbled. Clarke smiled at her groggy voice. "Here it comes."

Lexa was stretched out on the couch with her face pressed into the cushions. Her blanket was tangled around her legs because it was just too hot to keep it on, and her shirt was twisted about halfway up her back.

Clarke leaned over and prodded where she expected Lexa's side was. "Hey, scoot over. I'm sleeping here tonight."

"No." Lexa grumbled, pressing herself forward against the cushions. "You 'kay?"

Clarke suspected she wasn't fully awake. She tugged down Lexa's shirt, dragged the blanket up her legs, and climbed behind her on the couch.

"Fine, honey. Go back to sleep."

"Don't…snore." Lexa murmured.

Clarke kissed Lexa's shoulder. "I won't. Do you?"

"Mm. Good." Lexa chuckled absently. She reached blindly for Clarke's hand and buried her face further into the couch cushions.

Clarke hugged her tightly, much closer than she would have if Lexa was fully awake. The couch was warm and sandy, with grit in every crevice. Lexa's hair smelled like saltwater and Clarke was dangerously close to going back over the edge, but she decided that she'd have to be crazy to trade four weeks of this for anything.

* * *

Mars woke her up, plodding along her side and digging into her ribs. Clarke blindly shoved him away and blinked open her eyes, confused. Her limbs felt achy and horrible and she was definitely not in her bed. One leg was slung over the edge of the couch and the other was jammed uncomfortably into the opposite arm. The blanket was nowhere to be seen.

She could feel the deep sleep lines in her face.

"Hey there."

Clarke wiped discreetly at her mouth and lifted her head to see Lexa. She stood on the opposite side of the room with a waffle in her hand and an amused smile on her face. She wore a light jacket-black leather, Clarke noted immediately-and dark jeans, and Clarke glanced self-consciously down at herself to make sure she hadn't lost any clothing in the night.

Lexa sidled up and sat on the coffee table.

"So, I found something in my bed this morning that wasn't there when I went to sleep." She drawled. Her smirk faded to confusion and she took a bite of her waffle. "I don't know how it got there."

"It's not a bed. It's a couch." Clarke said thickly.

And she decided to never sleep on it ever again. She tried straightening her leg out and winced at the pain in her knee.

"Maybe it slithered up through the floorboards." Lexa frowned. "Or maybe it was living under the cushions."

"Lexa, shut your face." Clarke rasped, attempting to sit up. She groaned at the cracking in her hip and rotated her shoulder experimentally.

Lexa held out her half-eaten waffle, eyebrow raised.

Clarke snorted slightly. "No, thank you."

"If you do some stretching you can work it out." Lexa offered easily. "Some gymnastics maybe. Do a few flips and you'll be good as new."

"How do you sleep here?"

Lexa shrugged. "It's built for one. My back seems to like it." She tipped her head and watched Clarke closely. "Are you okay? I really don't remember you coming in."

Clarke smiled softly, despite the pain in her joints. "Fine. I think you were half asleep."

"You're sure?" Lexa shoved the rest of her waffle into her mouth and brushed the crumbs off her lap. "Nothing happened?"

"Everything's fine."

Lexa didn't believe her. She'd woken up wrapped in Clarke Griffin-not that she really wanted to complain-but there had to be a reason. Clarke's knee would probably be locked into the same position for the next few days, and that was worth something.

"Alright, Clarke Griffin. Put some clothes on because we're going to Miami." Lexa clapped and stood up to fetch another waffle.

"What? Why?" Clarke ran a hand through her tangled hair, pouting at the state of her morning.

"Meeting a potential supplier." Lexa accidentally tipped the box of Eggo waffles upside down, sending about five of them cascading to the floor. She crouched and slid them all back into the package, and then grabbed a sticky note and a marker and wrote "For Boris" on the box before shoving it back in the freezer.

Clarke stared at her from across the room.

"So that's why you're dressed like that." She mused, after deciding Bellamy would be fine with a few contaminated waffles.

Lexa cut her eyes over. "Like what?"

"Like a member of civilized society." Clarke crossed the room to Lexa, ignoring her narrowed eyes.

Clarke's own gaze was fixed on the collar of Lexa's leather jacket. It sat about halfway up her neck, sharpening her jaw and absolutely fascinating Clarke. Lexa's hair was pulled back-clean, for once-and her sunglasses were tucked into the V of her t-shirt. Clarke tried-not very hard-to pretend she was looking for breakfast instead of eyeballing Lexa.

Lexa chuckled when she realized what was happening. She cupped a hand around the back of Clarke's neck and ducked closer, inches apart.

"Can you handle a three hour drive, Clarke?" Lexa whispered.

Clarke tried to scoff. She choked and nodded.

"Are you sure? Because it's gonna be hot." Lexa smiled. "This jacket will come off, and I'll put my sunglasses on, and sometimes pants are just too tight for any kind of underwear, you know?"

Lexa enjoyed seeing what kind of reactions she could elicit.

Clarke's eyes widened and Lexa kissed her while her jaw was dropped. Clarke moaned immediately and tipped forward, pressing Lexa against the counter, and Lexa laughed and pushed lightly on her shoulder to slide out of the trap.

She tried to ignore the abrupt rush of affection those wide brown eyes gave her.

"Six hours in a car today, Clarke Griffin." Lexa turned Clarke around and pushed her gently towards a pile of clothes on the coffee table. "Let's get started."

* * *

"So, do you not drive anywhere? At all?" Clarke asked as they passed through West Palm Beach.

She'd quickly gotten the hang of Bellamy's car, a Jeep with a "Sea Turtles Dig the Dark" bumper sticker, and Lexa sat next to her, messing with the radio and eating a bag of grapes.

Lexa shook her head silently.

"But…groceries and errands, dentist appointments, church. Dates." Clarke glanced at Lexa, "You just ride with Bellamy and Lincoln and Raven? For everything?"

"Or walk." Lexa shrugged.

"That seems like it would hinder a relationship."

Lexa narrowed her eyes at the side of Clarke's head. "If their legs function they can make the walk."

Clarke nodded slowly. "But…say you get into a relationship with somebody who lives further away? Where walking isn't really feasible."

"How far?"

Three thousand miles, Florida to California. A full day of driving to get through Texas alone.

"Like…I don't know." Clarke tapped the steering wheel, hyperaware of Lexa's eyes on her. "Say she lives twenty minutes away. She'd be the only one able to make the drive, right?"

Lexa smiled slightly. "That's happened before."

"Yeah?"

Lexa hummed. "They don't really stick around long."

Clarke nodded sadly. "Idiots." She muttered, mostly to herself. She glanced over to find Lexa smiling at her. "Have you tried driving?" she wondered.

Lexa nodded.

"And…that didn't go so well?" Clarke guessed.

"Sure."

Clarke smiled wryly. It was like pulling teeth. "Can you drive? Or do you just…not want to?"

"I don't." Lexa said shortly.

Clarke nodded silently. She noticed Lexa's leg bouncing and refrained from further questions. She waited a few minutes to start singing along to the radio, and she caught Lexa's smile out of the corner of her eye.

Lexa finished her grapes as they drove through Boca and then directed Clarke past downtown Miami to Key Biscayne. She chuckled when she noticed that Clarke was crossing the bridge as slowly-and with as much distance between the car and the edge-as possible.

The guy they were meeting ran a scuba and snorkeling charter boat, so Clarke parked near the designated dock and waited to follow Lexa's lead. In one hundred miles, the temperature had gone up ten degrees and the humidity was stifling. Lexa's jacket was abandoned on the backseat.

"Ready for your sea legs, Clarke Griffin?" Lexa chirped, sliding her Aviators up her nose.

Clarke was too busy taking in all of her surroundings to answer. Lexa pictured her stepping right off the dock and plunging into the bay, and she smiled and made sure to keep a hand on the small of Clarke's back.

"Hi there!"

The man who strode down the dock towards them was tall. He was tanned, sun-reddened, wearing boardies and a t-shirt and smiling widely. The dock creaked with every step. He held out his hand and stopped in front of Lexa.

"I'm Roan Azgeda. You must be Lexa."

Lexa smiled. "That's right."

"And Clarke Griffin!" Roan declared, like he wasn't at all surprised to see her there. "I heard you were down around here. I don't have a TV so I can't say I'm a fan, but people say you're awesome."

"I-that's…" Clarke faltered. She wondered how sheltered from the press she really was in her little Jupiter bubble. Maybe Miller was right and she was underestimating the extent of their coverage of her.

"Thank you." She managed to smile politely. "I'm just-I'm working with Lexa for a bit."

Lexa watched her curiously.

"That's cool." Roan nodded easily. He gestured behind him. "I thought we'd just hop on the boat and talk."

Lexa waved her hand. "Take us away."

The step from the dock to the boat was easy for Roan, and he turned around and held his hand out for Clarke.

"Ready for a swim, Ms. Griffin?" Lexa asked brightly, poised behind Clarke to catch her if she tipped backwards.

Clarke spun around, eyebrow raised. "I will push you in that water, Lexa."

"Please do." Lexa leaned forward challengingly, holding eye contact. She whispered so that only Clarke could hear. "It's so hot out here isn't it?"

Clarke pursed her lips. She ignored Lexa's smug smile and faced forward again, hopping lightly onto the boat with Roan's help. There were two long wooden benches under a sheltered lounge area, with metal rows behind them to hold the tanks during a day trip.

Roan settled on one of the benches with Clarke and Lexa opposite. He told them about his business, and then about his future plans and his interest in partnering with Lexa.

"Basically, my place here is overflowing." Roan explained. "I'm totally packed with business. It's the perfect place for scuba, you know?"

Lexa nodded. She was leaning forward and listening intently, brow furrowed. Clarke enjoyed watching her work-the way her eyes flashed or lit up, how she'd hum or grind her teeth.

"So I wanna expand." Roan continued. "I have buddies to take care of my stuff here- the boat, the shop, all that. I was looking at Jupiter, trading the dolphins for manatees."

Lexa hummed vaguely. "There are still dolphins there."

"Right, yeah, it's the beach." Roan laughed. He clapped his hands against his legs. "Extending an established surf shop is my plan. You already have a snorkeling section, which is obviously lacking, and I could add to that."

Lexa pursed her lips thoughtfully.

"Provide everything the marine enthusiast could hope for." Roan grinned. "We could even look into charters, under the name of Jupiter Surf. Owned by you, run by me, we could start with weekends and take loads of divers out to the reef."

"Run by you." Lexa repeated.

Clarke smothered a smile at her dubious tone.

"Like, in a literal way." Roan nodded. "I drive the boat, handle the people on the trips. I supply the store, but stay out of sight. For now."

Lexa nodded slowly. Her gaze drifted off to the water as she considered what Roan was saying.

"And I mean, you could totally expand if you wanted to get out of Jupiter." Roan suggested. "You know, open a surf shop on the Gulf, maybe Hawaii, southern California."

Clarke's breath hitched. Her mouth dropped open and her fingers tightened around the bench.

Roan interpreted her reaction as interest. He smiled at Clarke. "Right? Huntington, Hermosa, Venice, Malibu. She'd be right next door, huh? It'd be totally cool. Or you could stay in Jupiter. I don't think California has manatees."

Clarke caught Lexa's eye. She couldn't read anything there, but Lexa's gaze was sharp, serious. There was some surprise, some wariness, and then Lexa clenched her jaw and looked away.

They left Roan with promises to contact him soon, and then stood outside the Jeep for five minutes waiting for the AC to start circulating.

"I like his ideas." Clarke offered vaguely.

She tried to lean casually against the door of the Jeep, but she scalded her arms and leapt forward with a shriek.

"Easy there, Clarke." Lexa smiled slightly, reaching out to check Clarke's arms.

"What did you think of them? Of his ideas?"

Lexa bobbled her head around. "I think I'd trust him on a boat."

"So you're considering…everything he talked about?"

Lexa dropped Clarke's arms when she determined that they were okay. Her gaze flickered up to Clarke's, amused.

"Yeah. I am." She said softly.

Clarke bit her lip. She ducked her head and smiled down at her feet.

"Now get in the car and drive me home, Clarke Griffin." Lexa smiled, eyes dancing behind her sunglasses. They were both red-faced and sweaty, ready to jump into the ocean. "These pants are so uncomfortable with no underwear on."

Clarke hummed sagely, totally prepared this time. She settled a hand at the front of Lexa's jeans, letting her fingers pull down on the waist. Lexa gasped and tipped back against the Jeep.

"I guess you'll just have to take them off in the car." Clarke whispered.

She smiled, pleased with herself, and climbed into the driver's seat for the three-hour ride.

* * *

"There are three ways to deal with oncoming waves when you're paddling out during a set."

Clarke bounced excitedly in the waist-deep water, hands clasped together.

"You can ignore them and let them pummel you and drag you all the way to shore." Lexa smiled. "Or you can duck dive or turtle roll."

"Ooh, that sounds like fun."

Lexa put a hand on her shortboard and nodded at Clarke. "I won't teach you the duck dive because it can't be done on a longboard. It's like trying to hold a ship underwater."

Clarke pouted slightly. "How do you do it?"

"You paddle at the wave-as fast as possible-and then push the nose underwater and get the board as deep as you can." Lexa explained, absently picking at the wax. "And then your body has to follow, with your knee holding the tail down."

Clarke nodded slowly. "That sounds…difficult."

Lexa chuckled.

"Teach me the turtle one."

"For a turtle roll-actually, you know what, lie on your board, Clarke." Lexa instructed. She let her own shortboard drift in the calm water and approached Clarke.

Clarke complied. They had both foregone rashguards for the day, so when Clarke lay on her board she found herself face to face with Lexa's stomach. Reddened from paddling around, toned, sun-tinted. Lexa didn't even realize Clarke was staring because her own eyes were fixed on the backs of Clarke's legs. She swallowed thickly and continued her explanation.

"For a turtle roll, you just flip over. You paddle towards the wave, grab the rails, and flip over."

Clarke frowned. "So I'll be underwater?"

"Yeah, Clarke. We're in the ocean." Lexa chuckled. She slicked the hair back off her face and scanned the horizon for a test swell. "Make sure you hold the board tightly and the wave will pass over you."

Clarke was skeptical.

"If you let go, someone's gonna get knocked unconscious by your foamie."

"This seems…counter-intuitive." Clarke mused. Dumping herself into the water right as the wave hit couldn't possibly be the best plan.

Lexa winked at her and dragged the board towards some breaking whitewater. "Trust me, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke did. She really did, and she tried her best. After an hour, Lexa had come to the conclusion that Clarke had chosen option one-the "let the wave pummel you and drag you all the way to shore" route. She'd either let go of the board every time-Lexa made sure to stay several yards away-or she'd manage to hold on but surface too early.

"It's like a cartoon!" Clarke shrieked after being wrecked by the wave once again. She stalked towards Lexa, stingray shuffle forgotten, angrily dragging her giant board behind her. "I can't just capsize and cling to the bottom like an insect!"

"Why not?" Lexa watched, amused. She was draped over her shortboard and drifting easily with the swells.

"It's the stupidest way to get past the waves."

Lexa hummed. She dropped her chin onto her hands. "Do you have a better idea?"

Clarke slowly sunk as her irrational anger at the ocean faded. "Well, I could…Can people tow you out there?"

Lexa laughed. "Sure, if you're a monster wave surfer on the North Shore." She reached out with her foot and nudged Clarke's thigh. "I'm not calling the jet-skis to get you to a head-high break."

Clarke sighed and dropped her chin onto her hands.

Lexa smiled at her- red eyed from the seawater, burnt cheeks, skewed bikini top.

"I'm gonna tell you something, Clarke." Lexa informed. "But only if you promise not to ask me any questions."

Clarke eyed her suspiciously. She nodded silently against her board.

"Really? You'll be able to stop yourself from asking questions?"

Clarke rolled her eyes. "Tell me." She murmured.

Lexa nodded. She licked her lips and ran her fingertips over the wax bumps on her board. Clarke let hers drift closer so that the rails knocked into each other.

"My mom's visiting in two weeks." Lexa said stiffly. "I haven't seen or spoken to her in three years, but she's coming and she's staying until after the Pro-Am."

Clarke nodded intently.

"She knows about…my sexuality, and I'm not going to hide anything from her. Or change anything for her." Lexa caught Clarke's gaze. "She'll be sleeping in my guest room and probably hanging around the shop, and I just wanted to give you a heads up."

Clarke pressed her lips together to prevent herself from speaking. What's your mom like? Why haven't you spoken in three years? Will you still sleep at the shop with your mom at your house?

She kept them all inside.

"And it would be best if we all avoid bringing up the past. At all." Lexa added.

Clarke hummed and nodded. "That-"

"No questions."

"It's a comment." Clarke scoffed. She stood up in the water with her palms flat on the board. "Just…that all sounds fine. I'm sure it will be a nice experience."

Lexa smiled, watching Clarke try to control herself. "You look ready to burst."

"And you have friends around if you need anything. I'm sure they'll help out."

"Wow," Lexa drawled. "Your face is really red."

"We've been out here for hours." Clarke countered.

Lexa nodded. She stood and gently grabbed Clarke's arm before she could start heading for shore. Clarke's agitated expression softened immediately.

"Thanks." Lexa murmured.

Clarke nodded and smiled at her. "Of course, Lexa Woods."


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is one of my favourite chapters :) hope you enjoy it

Clarke stumbled into the hallway after Lexa, just managing to stay on her feet. She'd been closing the shop only five minutes ago, and now she was dizzy and disheveled and blindly following where she was led. She glanced at the posters on the wall like she'd never seen them before.

"Do you have any food in the fridge?" She wondered dazedly, tugging on Lexa's hand.

Lexa spun around, smiling widely. She pressed Clarke against the wall and tickled her fingers under the hem of Clarke's shirt. "Waffles, I think." Lexa tipped her head. "And vodka."

Clarke swallowed thickly. "Real food."

"There's tequila too."

Clarke shook her head.

Lexa pressed closer and traced her nose down the shell of Clarke's ear. Clarke seemed frozen, fixated on a spot over Lexa's shoulder. Lexa smiled.

"Are you hungry, Clarke?" she whispered.

Clarke nodded.

Lexa decided that she'd be hiding all of her food in the stockroom from now on. Or she'd fire the next employee who stole her cheese sticks out of the fridge. She lodged a thigh between Clarke's and tilted her head curiously.

"What would you like to eat?"

Clarke blew out her cheeks, absolutely unable to answer properly at the moment.

"Pasta? Shots?" Lexa tipped forward, delighted with herself. "Something else?"

A strangled moan rumbled up out of Clarke. She surged forward and latched onto Lexa's mouth, fingers digging into the back of Lexa's neck. Lexa rolled with it, unsurprised. She hummed and parted her lips to let Clarke's tongue graze every surface.

Clarke dropped a hand to squeeze Lexa's thigh. She pushed off the wall in the vague direction of the lounge door, forcing Lexa to back up.

"Take these off." Clarke whined, tugging at the waist of Lexa's sweatpants.

Lexa fell into the wall in her rush. "Really? Are you sure?"

No. Not at all.

Clarke nodded, despite herself. Lexa kissed her again, gripping Clarke's chin, and leaned against the lounge door as she dragged her sweatpants down her thighs. Clarke was on her before she could even straighten back up.

"Lets-can-open the door." Lexa managed with Clarke's hand squeezing the back of her bare thigh.

She fumbled with the buttons on Clarke's blouse while Clarke swatted at the doorknob. Lexa had four buttons undone-just so that Clarke's bra was visible-by the time the door swung open.

"Couch." Clarke muttered, kicking Lexa's tangled sweatpants away.

"Floor." Lexa laughed against her mouth.

They staggered through the door- Clarke's hands fused to Lexa's thighs, Lexa struggling blindly with those last few buttons. Clarke caught movement out of the corner of her eye and froze, chest flaring with a rush of panic while Lexa laved at her neck.

"Shit!" Bellamy exclaimed, scrabbling up from the couch.

Lexa shot backwards in surprise. She whirled around, sending the last of Clarke's buttons to the floor, and stared at Bellamy- red faced, chest heaving, in a t-shirt and boyshorts and tangled hair courtesy of Clarke.

"Where are your pants?!" Bellamy shouted, half kneeling on the coffee table.

Lexa spun on her heel. She actually couldn't recall what had happened to her sweatpants. "Fuck, fuck. Get lost, Boris!"

"Dude, put on some pants!"

Clarke appeared in front of Lexa a moment later, blushing furiously, holding her blouse closed with one hand, and offering up a ball of Lexa's dark green sweatpants.

"Shit, thank you." Lexa muttered, hurrying to pull them on.

Clarke watched sadly as those legs were covered up again.

"Dude, man, that's not…" Bellamy shook his head, halfway between horror and laughter. "You gotta check the room first or something, Lex."

Lexa ground her teeth and pressed her hands against her warm face. "Shut the hell up."

"I mean, you don't have the worst ass, but I don't need to see it every-"

"You don't seem surprised." Clarke interrupted before Lexa could cross the room and tackle Bellamy. She could feel Lexa seething and realized that it was probably mostly embarrassment.

"About you and Lexa?" Bellamy clarified. He politely averted his gaze from the gap in Clarke's blouse. "We're not total morons, despite what Lexa says."

"You are." Lexa mumbled.

Bellamy grinned. "You frustrated, Woods?"

"But, you won't-you won't tell anybody, right?" Clarke asked, searching Bellamy's face. "And Raven and Lincoln won't tell anybody either?"

Bellamy looked at Clarke seriously, smile fading. "No. No way, G." He assured. He nodded at Lexa, eyes sparkling. "You turned our boss nice. We're not gonna mess that up."

Lexa scoffed. "I'm gonna mess you up." She muttered.

Clarke rolled her eyes.

"She's just a beacon of sunshine since you've been here." Bellamy smiled. He winked at Clarke and walked towards the yellow door. "I'm heading home now, so you guys can…You just do what you gotta do."

He stopped in front of Lexa, who stared up at him with hard eyes.

Bellamy was unaffected by her expression, probably because her pants were twisted, her cheeks were pink, and she had red bite marks dotted up her neck and jaw. He nodded at her, amused.

"You got this, Lexa." He whispered, gesturing at Clarke.

Lexa's eyes flashed.

"Just put a blanket down or something if you do it on the couch. And I hid leftovers in the fridge if you guys get hungry."

Lexa bit her cheek and nodded.

"And-I don't know- have some clothes on by the time we come in tomorrow, alright?"

Lexa sank her teeth further into her cheek, ears aflame. Clarke watched, smiling softly.

"I'm happy for you, dude." Bellamy nudged Lexa's shoulder, grinned at Clarke, and left through the yellow door.

Lexa finally relaxed. Her shoulders fell and her jaw loosened, and Clarke stepped up next to her and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Lexa chuckled wryly. "Oh my God."

"That was unfortunate." Clarke smiled, rubbing absently at the freckles on Lexa's forearm.

"Are you still hungry? Maybe we could just have some food and watch a movie tonight." Lexa suggested quietly. She tugged at the ties on her sweatpants. "Just, knowing Bellamy knows what we're doing…"

Clarke smiled at Lexa's flushed face.

"I mean, we could continue if you want, but-"

"A movie is perfect, Lexa." Clarke assured. She leaned into Lexa's side to whisper in her ear. "And maybe your pants can come back off."

Lexa pressed her lips together. "Clarke Griffin."

"I like your stripy underwear." Clarke said, enjoying herself. "It's cute."

Lexa's eyes dropped and fixed on the polka dot bra visible through the gap in Clarke's blouse. She tipped her head, content to just stare at the dark, supple flesh. She hadn't been able to appreciate it like this earlier, too aroused to think straight, focused only on the buttons and lithe little body pressed against her.

Clarke smiled at her fondly. "Excuse me."

"Mm."

"You should pick a movie."

Lexa sighed wistfully. She pried her eyes away and ran a hand through her hair, pleased that Clarke was making no move to button her shirt back up. Maybe that meant Clarke was comfortable with her. Totally comfortable.

Lexa smiled to herself. She picked Ocean's 11 from the movie shelf- the original, of course- heated up the leftovers from the fridge, and then stood by the coffee table in front of Clarke. She pulled off her sweatpants, watching Clarke's eyes widen and then listening to Clarke laugh, and flung them onto the armchair.

"You're cute." Clarke said when Lexa settled in beside her.

Lexa rolled her eyes at herself. Cute.

She grabbed a carton of fries and propped her feet up on the coffee table. Clarke's hand moved to rest lightly on her thigh and Lexa smiled.

* * *

 

Clarke shoved her cell phone into her back pocket as she emerged from the stockroom. Miller was a persistent little terror, and Clarke found herself regretting answering every single one of his calls. She vowed to skip the next few just to drive him up the wall a bit.

"All good?" Lexa asked when Clarke wandered back onto the shop floor.

Everybody was working- Bellamy and Lincoln organizing the board room, Raven stocking shelves, Clarke and Lexa re-hanging and replacing sun-bleached, illegible posters- all in preparation for the Pro-Am. Lexa unfurled a Dakine surf team banner and held it up for Clarke's approval.

Clarke nodded shortly. "It's fine."

Lexa eyed her. "Miller again?"

"He's just…not a patient person." Clarke shrugged and picked up the roll of double sided tape. She ran her nail along the edge and cut off four little squares to use for the poster.

Lexa watched her. "What does he want from you?"

Clarke tilted her head and pressed her lips together. She tediously peeled the backing from each piece of tape and stuck the squares into the corners of the banner.

"He wants me to leave earlier." She finally said, avoiding Lexa's gaze. "Just-if I don't take Anything Goes- he has an audition for me for something else in a week and a half."

Lexa stared at the side of Clarke's head.

"I'm not sure how interested I am in that." Clarke shrugged casually.

"Well, yeah, you're Reno Sweeney." Lexa smiled. She took the poster from Clarke and climbed the stepladder to put it on the wall. "You have to do Anything Goes."

"True that!" Raven shouted from the far side of the room.

Clarke shook her head.

Lexa glanced around the walls for the next poster to replace. "What's stopping you? Is it Finn Collins?"

Clarke bit her lip, unsure. It wasn't the man himself- more the idea of what she'd done with him and how it could possibly have affected her career. Lexa seemed to know this.

"You know you belong there, Clarke. I'll be able to tell people I'm friends with the best Reno Sweeney of all time."

Clarke smiled. "You'd brag about me?"

Lexa hesitated, then scoffed. She laid a poster of a breaking Mavericks wave on the table and shook her head.

"You just said you'd brag about me."

"What? What are you talking about, Clarke?" Lexa drawled, rubbing at the crinkles in the poster.

Clarke shook her head. They worked quietly for several minutes, listening to the banging coming from Lincoln and Bellamy in the boardroom. The guys' organizational method seemed to involve precariously stacking boards into ceiling-high towers while the racks were moved around.

"Maybe I'll just take the audition Miller got for me." Clarke mused quietly, picking at the roll of tape. Lexa cut her eyes over. "Just for something different."

"Different doesn't mean good."

"I don't plan on taking the role." Clarke clarified. "But an audition has direction."

"You have direction here." Lexa argued, smiling. She pointed towards the back of the shop. "Go organize the wetsuits in the stockroom. When you've done that, rinse the sand from the shower and get me some boiled peanuts."

Clarke sighed helplessly. "If I leave in a week I'll have time to prepare for the audition."

Lexa's smile faltered.

"Then if I do well on that, I can either take that role or Anything Goes. It'll give me options."

"Just take Anything Goes." Lexa said sharply, like it was obvious. She abandoned the poster and leaned against the table, gaze on Clarke. "You don't need options. You can't-"

Lexa swallowed. Her eyes dropped to Clarke's flip-flops. "You said you'd have two months here."

"I thought I would." Clarke said quietly.

Lexa exhaled shortly from her nose, puffing like a bull. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. She was being roped back into her tiny little circle after running free for weeks. Clarke watched her fingers turn white, clutching the edge of the table.

"So…that's it? You're just-you're leaving in a week?" Lexa said stiltedly.

It was heartbreaking- made worse by the fact that they'd both seen it coming from day one. Lexa could surf like a pro and fix a nasty jellyfish sting, but the expression on her normally stoic face right now made Clarke want to cry.

"I think…maybe, yeah." Clarke struggled to string a sentence together.

The weight was finally hitting her. Leaving Jupiter had been just an intangible idea before, a ridiculous notion that Miller had been harping on about.

Lexa nodded slowly. She pushed off the table and ran a hand through her hair, eyes unfocused.

"I'll-I mean, we'll keep in touch." Clarke offered lamely, scrabbling for ground. Lexa looked at her oddly. "I'll call and visit. This place-this shop- it's like another home now."

"Okay, Clarke." Lexa said quietly. "Whatever you want."

Clarke glanced across the room to find Raven watching them with narrowed eyes.

She stepped closer to Lexa and lowered her voice, trying to get rid of the tremble. "I mean it. We're friends now."

"Okay." Lexa repeated.

"I'm not just going to disappear in a week without-"

"Really?" Lexa interrupted, eyes alight. She tapped her fingers over her thigh. "You got here by disappearing, Clarke. Do you make a habit of dropping off the map with no warning?"

Clarke sighed. "Lexa."

"Just-ignoring our friendship," Lexa mockingly held up air quotes. "You committed to two months of work. Are you really that flaky? Unprofessional? You won't even stick around for the contest?"

There was a lump growing in Clarke's throat. All she could do was shake her head.

"Who's gonna run my goddamn booth, Clarke?" Lexa raised her voice, digging her nails into her palms. Her eyes were a bright, glimmering green, boring into Clarke's, and her volume caught Raven's attention. Bellamy and Lincoln peered through the boardroom doorway as Raven stalked across the shop.

"I thought you'd understand." Clarke said weakly.

Lexa stared at her, jaw clenched. Clarke wrapped her arms around herself just so they weren't dangling uselessly at her sides.

"I understand that you're better than whatever shit audition Miller has you running home early for." Lexa said lowly, ducking to catch Clarke's gaze.

"Plans change." Clarke muttered.

"If you're a coward." Lexa stepped forward. "Where's your head, Clarke?" she challenged.

"I warned you." Clarke said quietly, apologetically, holding Lexa's gaze. Lexa's eyes flickered with something- confusion, hurt, sadness. She glanced at Raven, who was watching her carefully.

"I told you I was a mess. I told you what you were getting into. And I'm not the only one who's running away from things."

Lexa swallowed. Her chest was too tight and she wheezed a little on her inhale.

"Kissing in the dark doesn't make us anything special, Lexa." Clarke stated quietly.

This time there was no mistaking the hurt. It was like Lexa had been expecting it, her dark hair hair and smiling eyes just waiting to be left behind again. Her lips turned down and she blinked a bit too rapidly, and it was a punch to Clarke's gut.

But then the hurt was gone and Lexa was inches from Clarke, staring down at her. Aloof and intimidating, like the Lexa from day one, minus the curious eyes and amused smile.

Her aura of attractive casualness and nonchalant good manners remained.

Lexa smiled slightly. "We both know that's not true." She whispered so that only Clarke could hear. Clarke's eyes flickered to the floor because Lexa was always absolutely right.

Lexa shrugged. Only Clarke could see the slight tremble in her jaw. "Maybe now I can forget your name, Clarke Griffin."

Tears sprung to Clarke's eyes at the thought. Lexa turned and strode through the boardroom, focused on the floor despite Bellamy and Lincoln's concerned glances. Raven hovered near Clarke- fuming mad but conflicted about confronting somebody so obviously near a breakdown.

Clarke left the posters and tape on the table and walked across the room, right out the front door. She held it together on the short walk to her hotel, all the way up the elevator. And then she got inside her room after fumbling with the key card and crumbled right into her armchair.

She pressed a hand over her mouth to contain her keening sobs, hugged a pillow to her chest, and let herself go.

* * *

 

Lexa paced around the lounge, looking for her board wax and wheezing with every breath.

Raven and Lincoln watched from the doorway, concerned and helpless. Lexa rubbed at her forehead and rounded on them.

"What did you do with it?" she bit out. "I can't-I can't remember where I put it."

"Lex, honey, you need to sit down." Raven murmured.

Lexa's eyes flashed. "Bellamy threw it away, didn't he? God, he's-"

"I'll grab you a new one, Lexa, okay?" Lincoln placated.

Lexa nodded and coughed, chest heaving.

"Lexa, breathe." Raven said when Lincoln disappeared back into the shop. "Deeply, come on. In and out."

Lexa tried to comply. Her eyes watered and her chest only seemed to get tighter. Raven pushed off the doorjamb and crossed the room. Lexa was looking for something to throw when Raven appeared before. She rested a supportive hand on Lexa's back, and Lexa choked on a sob at the contact.

"Oh God, honey." Raven murmured, wrapping her arms protectively around Lexa.

Lexa silenced herself almost immediately. She trembled violently with every cry that was contained, and Raven shook her head.

"You can cry, Lexa." Raven said softly. "You're okay."

"She wants-she wanted me to teach her a trick." Lexa managed, voice strained and thick. Raven frowned. "She was so excited about it-so-and I told her no. I haven't-I still haven't taught her one yet. She can't just-she can't just leave."

"Maybe she won't." Raven mused softly.

"She's-she's such an idiot sometimes." Lexa said angrily, nose pressed against Raven's shoulder.

Raven rolled her eyes. "Both of you."

"I can't-I can't find my wax."

"You still have time, you know." Raven said quietly, pulling back to see Lexa's face. She pushed salty blonde hair out of Lexa's eyes. "She didn't say she was definitely leaving in a week. I know you can at least get her to stay for the contest."

Lexa's gaze was sharp, chin held high like she hadn't cried at all. Raven absently tucked more hair behind her ear.

"She's not an idiot. I shouldn't-I shouldn't have...called..." Lexa muttered thickly, wiping at her eyes.

Raven snorted. Honestly, she felt like drowning Clarke at the moment, but that probably wasn't what Lexa needed.

"She's a dumbass." She said instead.

Lexa shook her head. "She warned me."

"Everybody warns you. You never listen, you moron."

Lexa swallowed. She looked at Raven determinedly. "But I know I'm-I'm right, Raven. The things she says and does, I know it's not-I know it's not one-sided. It's not just me this time."

Raven smiled softly. "That's good, Lex."

"I want to teach her a trick. I want to see her face when she-when she gets it."

"Are you gonna go see her?" Raven spotted Lexa's wax on the coffee table, in plain view. "Because I'm not your therapist and my boss is an ass, so I need to get back to work."

Lexa nodded slightly. "Don't call me an ass." She wiped at her face again, and Raven rolled her eyes and hugged her tightly before stepping towards the door.

"You can breathe, right?" Raven checked, only half joking.

Lexa nodded.

"Alright, wheezy." Raven spun on her heel. "Wax is on the coffee table."

Lexa glanced at the wax, and then at her shortboard. Her gaze lingered on the small black "C" on the nose, and she made a decision. She'd already blasted her circle to bits, so she was going all in.

* * *

 

Clarke was still curled in the armchair, sniffling quietly into her t-shirt, when there was a knock at the door. She made no move to respond to it- one of her legs was numb and her face probably looked awful-but the knocking didn't stop.

Clarke sighed. She slid out of the chair and stretched out her legs, and then limped over to the mirror. Her face was red and tear-stained, imprinted from where her cheek had been resting on the chair. She rubbed at her bloodshot eyes and tied her hair back, and then cleared her throat and made sure that she could speak without her voice cracking.

She could, though it was hoarse. She walked through the door and peered through the peephole.

Lexa stood on the other side, in her white t-shirt and red shorts, surfboard tucked on her arm. Clarke couldn't see her feet, but she could bet there were no shoes.

Lexa knocked again. She didn't seem impatient- just calm and collected, a little sad, with her lips turned down, eyes soft and red. Clarke smiled slightly at the sight and opened the door.

Lexa looked at her for a moment.

Clarke rubbed at her face self-consciously and realized she was still wearing the t-shirt she'd been crying into. She glanced discreetly down to see if it was obvious.

"You look fine." Lexa murmured.

Clarke scoffed lightly.

Lexa stood her board on its tail and pointed at the "C" on its nose. She took a shaky breath and ducked to catch Clarke's gaze.

"You asked what this stands for." Lexa reminded her.

Clarke's eyes flicked between the board and Lexa's face. "You said Captain Underpants."

Lexa's lips quirked. Her shoulders relaxed and she gestured behind Clarke. "Can I-can I come in?"

Clarke stepped back to let her through. Lexa was walking past the bed by the time Clarke realized her room was a wreck, and she tossed several articles of clothing into a haphazard laundry pile.

Lexa caught the action and smiled slightly. "And you call me a slob."

Clarke huffed and dropped onto the bed. "You are a slob."

Lexa set the board on its tail again. She sat next to Clarke and gathered herself for a moment. Clarke absently tapped Lexa's thigh with her fingers.

"What does it stand for?" Clarke finally ventured.

"Captain Underpants."

"Look, if you're not-"

"No, seriously." Lexa held onto Clarke's knee to keep her seated. Clarke watched her warily. "It's…This is a long story, okay. When I was in the wreck, I had a girlfriend, and she was in the passenger seat."

Clarke instinctively reached for Lexa's hand.

"Her name was Costia. We went to Yale together."

Clarke scooted closer, until she could hold onto Lexa's whole arm. "Was she alright?" she asked gently.

Lexa nodded.

Clarke watched her closely. "What happened?"

"I was in the hospital. I didn't really…know what was going on, but they wouldn't let Costia see me and I didn't know why." Lexa smiled wryly. "So I told my parents she was my girlfriend. My girlfriend should be allowed to see me, right? I came out to them while I was drugged and paralyzed from the waist down."

Clarke blinked at her. "Oh, Lexa." she breathed.

Lexa's eyes swam so Clarke hugged her arm closer.

"My dad had me confirm it when I was…lucid." Lexa continued. She rolled her eyes at herself. It was the only thing that ever made her feel small and pathetic.

It had been odd to wake up in that strange bed, confused and nauseous and in pain, to find her father standing there, staring angrily down at her. He asked what game she was playing, if she was gay, if she was brain-damaged. Lexa had nodded because there was no way they would do anything to her when she couldn't feel her legs.

"My dad told me that the accident was my fault." Lexa's breath hitched. She cleared her throat and wiped at her eyes, and Clarke rubbed a soothing hand up her forearm. "It was because I'd been riding around with my girlfriend."

Anger flared up inside Clarke.

"He said I might've deserved it."

"No, oh honey, no." Clarke mumbled, tipping into Lexa's side.

Lexa let her cling. "I know I didn't actually deserve it." She said roughly. "My dad's an asshole. It doesn't bother me anymore."

Clarke knew better than to believe that. "What about your mom?"

Lexa shrugged. "We'll see."

Clarke pressed her nose against Lexa's shoulder. "That's why you don't drive." She said quietly, realization dawning.

Lexa tipped her head.

"Because he said it was your fault."

"He wouldn't let me move back home, so I lived with Bellamy." Lexa continued. She laughed shortly and Clarke kissed her shoulder. "I was really, really difficult- just absolutely awful- and Costia broke up with me."

Clarke blinked back tears. "That's not fair. You had a right to be."

"I don't blame her and I don’t hate her. We’re still friends. She was important to me."

"So then you…What changed?" Clarke asked hesitantly, fearing the answer. "You jumped in the pool, right? Were you…Was that…"

Lexa turned her head and caught Clarke's eyes. She shook her head silently and Clarke nodded, relieved.

"I wasn't trying to do anything." Lexa said softly. "Bellamy took me to church the next week. And he took me to the beach and got me a surfboard. I told Raven I wanted to leave, and she and Lincoln transferred their credits to finish college here."

Clarke nodded, feeling horrendously guilty that she'd accused Lexa of running away.

"I think they thought I was…sort of crazy." Lexa said wryly, rubbing at her eyes again. "That I'd do something stupid."

"You're not crazy." Clarke nuzzled into Lexa's shoulder, argument forgotten.

Lexa looked at her, amused. Touchy-feely Clarke was the warmest, most comforting thing she could imagine.

"So the 'C' is for Costia?" Clarke wondered obliviously. "Did you love her?"

"It was for Costia, just to remind me of everything that happened. I don't really- I was in love with her. She made me happy and I like to remember that."

A slow smile spread over Clarke's face. She finally caught on. "But it stands for Captain Underpants now?"

"That's right." Lexa smiled. "I've never lied to you, Clarke Griffin. It stands for many things."

"Captain Underpants. Corndogs." Clarke chuckled against Lexa's shoulder. Lexa nodded with each word Clarke came up with. "Cats, church, coastline."

Lexa kissed Clarke's head when she ran out. "Griffin." She said quietly.

Clarke smiled widely, not really able to control it.

"Do you have questions?" Lexa eyed her knowingly.

Clarke thought for a moment. She actually didn't. Lexa finally seemed to have let everything out and Clarke could not come up with a single question. It was disconcerting for both of them. Clarke sighed and shook her head.

"Just-I want to say sorry. For earlier." She stated, sitting up straight. "For the-for my kissing in the dark comment. I didn't mean it. I didn't mean to make you cry."

Lexa scoffed. "You didn't make me cry."

Clarke smiled gently. She reached a hand up and wordlessly wiped at the tear tracks under Lexa's eyes. Lexa's cheeks flushed red.

"I think I'll stay here until after the contest." Clarke said slowly.

"You're not unprofessional, Clarke, or flaky." Lexa apologized. "I shouldn't have said that. If that's why-"

"No." Clarke shook her head. "It has nothing to do with…You know I haven't seen Harper in three days?"

Lexa's brow furrowed, confused. A little concerned.

Clarke chuckled. "She has been absolutely swept away by Florida life. She was in the Keys a few days ago. I think she's at Disney now. Her hotel room is totally abandoned and her priorities are in perfect order."

Lexa's lips quirked. "They are."

"She's not worrying about jetting back to California for an audition way below her talent level."

"So far below." Lexa nodded sagely.

Clarke looked at her for a minute, just soaking in her expression- tired and amused and relieved. Lexa tapped her feet against her surfboard. She could feel Clarke staring at the side of her head and it was oddly comforting.

"I want to teach you a trick." She announced. She smiled when Clarke's jaw dropped.

"We'll start today, right now, if you can handle it."

Clarke clasped her hands together. She forgot that her face was a smudgy wreck and her hair needed washing and she was still wearing that snot-stained t-shirt.

"I can handle it!" she declared, bouncing up off the bed.

Lexa followed. She held onto Clarke's arm to hold her still and kissed her softly, sweetly. She flushed when she pulled back, eyes warm and focused on Clarke's.

"Are you sure you can handle it?"

Clarke smiled, lips pressed together. "I'm sure."

"Absolutely positive?"

"Mhm." Clarke nodded. She rocked lightly on her feet, watching Lexa's eyes.

"I don't want you to drown."

"I won't. I can handle it."

Lexa smiled slowly. She kissed Clarke again and picked up her board, wondering where she'd put her wax. "I know you can, Clarke."


	11. Chapter 11

"What are we waiting for?" Clarke whined. She stared impatiently at the breaking waves and tapped her hands along her surfboard. "Let's just go."

Lexa shook her head. "We have to wait for a lull to paddle out."

"How long will that be?"

"I don't control the ocean, Clarke." Lexa rolled her eyes. She scanned the horizon again and then glanced down at Clarke, who stood in the knee-deep water fidgeting like a four-year-old. Lexa knew she'd be far less eager to learn a trick once she was pummeled by one of the head-high waves.

She also figured Clarke would do it over and over again until she got it right. Lexa just hoped to keep her from drowning.

"Follow me when we paddle out, okay?" Lexa nudged Clarke's arm, eyeing her seriously. "No lolly-gagging. If you get tired or scared, say so, and we'll try to make it back in before the set hits."

Clarke scoffed. "I won't get scared."

Lexa hummed indulgently.

Clarke narrowed her eyes. She could see Lexa's lips curved into an amused smile, eyes bright and sharp and focused on the waves. Her cheeks were red and her hair was tangled, and Clarke forgot what she was going to say.

"Ready, Clarke Griffin?" Lexa wondered, bending over to tighten the leash around her ankle.

Clarke's eyes landed on her ass, naturally. She thought about buying Lexa a new pair of red shorts.

"Ready?" Clarke echoed absently.

Lexa took a few steps forward, shortboard tucked snugly under her arm. She lifted a knowing eyebrow at Clarke and gestured towards the waves. "It's flat. Time to paddle. Pick it up, lady."

Clarke gasped excitedly. "It's time!" she yanked on her leash and dragged her longboard after Lexa to the waist-high water. Lexa moved so lightly and quickly, skimming along the surface of the water as she paddled, flashing her toned arms with every stroke.

Clarke struggled to keep up, barely convincing herself not to just grab onto Lexa's ankle and let Lexa tow her out past the break. She repeated everything Lexa had ever taught her- stay balanced, go steady, kick your feet, don't fall off. Her arms burned, but she managed to keep up.

"There are some swells coming." Lexa called, glancing behind her to make sure Clarke was still there. She was, and her pretty little face was breathless and alert, clearly very determined.

Lexa nodded to herself, pleased. "They won't break on you, even if looks like they're going to." She said loudly. "I promise."

Clarke's eyes widened once she realized what Lexa was talking about. The swells were much larger out here than they appeared from the whitewater. They were overwhelming, huge and looming and ready to crash down on her if she didn't move fast enough.

"Lexa." Clarke called anxiously, barely making it over one of the swells before it broke.

"Almost there, Clarke."

"How big are these?" Clarke asked loudly as she crested another one, jolting forward on the other side. She cleared her throat because her voice was unnaturally shrill.

Lexa glanced behind her again. She wondered if Clarke could tell how proud she was of her. "About four feet."

Clarke's jaw dropped, and she swallowed a mouthful of saltwater and coughed immediately. "Four-that-only four feet? That's it?" she sputtered.

Lexa finally stopped paddling. She sat back on her board and glanced around to take note of her location- she was lined up perfectly with the end of Jupiter Pier- and she smiled when Clarke's board bumped into hers.

Clarke heaved a sigh of relief and dropped her burning arms into the water, her forehead onto the cool foam of her board.

"They're four feet tall." Lexa assured, holding the nose of Clarke's board to keep her from drifting. "They just seem bigger when you're lying at the bottom."

"That was exhausting." Clarke mumbled.

Lexa smiled fondly. "That wasn't even the fun part."

Clarke sat up and slicked back her hair. She glanced around and was surprised to find that they really weren't that far out. It'd felt like she'd been paddling for a mile, crossed into another land. Her fingers were going numb.

"Today we're gonna drop in." Lexa informed, watching Clarke. "That's your trick. You're going to catch the wave and then drop to the left at the bottom. That's called backside."

Clarke looked skeptical. "That doesn't sound as cool as what you do."

"We can't all be as cool as I am." Lexa drawled.

"Can I do one of those jumps like you do?" Clarke persisted. "Where you fly up off the top and spin around?"

Lexa managed to turn her snort into a cough. She thumped her chest and met Clarke's wide, earnest eyes. "Soon, yeah. Let's not-let's not get ahead of ourselves."

Clarke nodded, pleased with that answer.

"Are you ready to catch one?" Lexa asked.

Clarke really was not looking forward to riding a wave all the way in and then having to paddle all the way back out again. Maybe she could get Lexa to tow her next time. She nodded, and Lexa grabbed the nose of her longboard and pointed it towards the shore.

"Paddle, pop up, cut left." Lexa instructed, giving the tail of Clarke's board a shove as the swell approached. Lexa smiled when Clarke began paddling frantically. She cupped her hands around her mouth and yelled, "You got this, Clarke Griffin!"

Clarke clung to the board, having lost control of herself as soon as she caught the wave. She hadn't "popped up," so dropping in had been like belly flopping onto a hard surface, and now she was moving so fast that she couldn't see straight. Honestly, it was exhilarating, and it was probably way better than whatever Lexa had wanted her to do.

Clarke shrieked freely, mouth wide open. Her knuckles turned white around the rails of the board and she swallowed several mouthfuls of water as she skimmed along.

How Lexa was able to do this while standing up was a mystery.

"Well. That's one way." Lexa laughed to herself, watching Clarke scream and careen wildly towards the shore.

Clarke finally grounded herself in the sand, but she seemed far too excited or overwhelmed to stand up, so she just rolled off her board and into the shallow water. Lexa was whooping her congratulations- because at least Clarke hadn't fallen off- when a figure on the beach caught her eye.

She silenced herself immediately, eyes locked onto her mother.

Katherine Woods stood about ten yards behind Clarke, in capri pants and a t-shirt, arms folded across her chest. She was too far away for Lexa to discern her expression. Clarke was still rolling around in the shallow water like an excited beached whale, so she obviously hadn't noticed the other woman.

Lexa set her jaw and paddled for the next wave. She popped up and stayed low, carving down the face and very much aware of her mother's eyes on her. She contemplated just riding straight in, but Clarke was watching as well- grinning and waiting expectantly for a trick- so Lexa smiled wryly and shifted into a bottom turn.

She shot back up the face of the wave, right into an impromptu aerial. She didn't even bother holding onto her board. If it tripped away midair, it would just be something for Clarke to laugh about. Lexa smiled widely as she landed back on the wave, right at the lip. Her knee gave out a moment later and she bailed into the whitewater with a laugh.

Clarke was whooping and applauding from the shore when Lexa emerged. She rushed forward as soon as Lexa hit the shallow water and bounced excitedly around her, pawing at Lexa's abdomen and arms in her congratulations.

"I want to learn that! You should teach me that!" she proclaimed. She ran a hand down Lexa's thigh. "Did you hurt yourself? Is your knee okay?"

"Clarke, Clarke, Clarke." Lexa nearly tipped forward over the other woman, now crouched in the shallow water. "Get up." She mumbled breathlessly, trying not to smile.

Clarke popped right up. She kept a steadying hand on Lexa's side. "Is your leg alright?"

"My mother is here." Lexa said bluntly, glancing over Clarke's shoulder.

Clarke's eyes widened. She spun around to follow Lexa's stare and finally noticed Katherine Woods. The woman was several yards away, out of the tide where Clarke had been rolling around like a moron only minutes before. Her white-blonde hair curled around her shoulders, and she watched Clarke and Lexa with familiar sharp, green eyes.

She looked curious, Clarke noted. Very composed, slightly hesitant.

Lexa strode up to her, hyperaware of the rashguard riding up her own side and the scars she knew would be visible on her legs. She kept her expression blank, even when she heard Clarke trip in her haste to follow.

Katherine's eyes landed on Lexa's face and never strayed.

Lexa stood stiffly, one arm crossed over her chest to rest on her surfboard. She was valiantly searching for the appropriate way to say "hello" when her mom smiled slightly.

"You're very good at that." Katherine said, nodding at Lexa's board. "I didn't know surfboarders could…go up into the air like that."

Lexa almost laughed. She let her shoulders relax slightly and shrugged. "It's…Yeah. Lots of practice."

"Practice and natural talent." Katherine said quietly.

Lexa stared at her. She jumped when she felt Clarke pulling down her rashguard at the back where it had ridden up. Clarke squeezed her upper arm and Katherine followed the action.

"Clarke Griffin." Katherine said, now searching Clarke's face.

It wasn't the kind of look that fans gave her. Clarke usually recognized their excitement and disbelief, and was used to eliciting a reaction with only a smile. Katherine's expression was searching in a different way. Gentle and appraising.

Clarke wished her hair wasn't tangled in blonde, curly knots, wished her eyes weren't bloodshot from the saltwater. Wished she hadn't been rolling around like an idiot earlier.

"It's a pleasure to meet you Ms. Woods." Clarke said sweetly, shaking Katherine's hand.

Katherine chuckled softly, gaze flickering between Clarke and Lexa. "I…certainly was not expecting to see you here."

"Surfing is my true calling." Clarke joked, unsure about how much Lexa wanted her to say. Katherine smiled again. Her eyes kept dragging back to Lexa, who stood white-knuckling her surfboard and studying the lines around her mom's lips.

Clarke nudged Lexa's side. "I'm meeting Bellamy to prepare our Pro-Am table. You should take your mom to lunch."

"That sounds lovely." Katherine said warmly.

Lexa shifted uncomfortably. She glanced down at Clarke. "Where?"

"Just go to Octavia's."

"Really?"

Clarke tipped her head. "Do you-should I cancel with Bellamy?" she asked quietly, even though Katherine was right there and she may as well speak at a normal volume.

Lexa shook her head.

"Then yes, really." Clarke squeezed Lexa's wrist and turned to smile at Katherine. "She loves Octavia's sweet potato fries. And the cheeseburgers and boiled peanuts. Really, anything that's-"

"Alright." Lexa said shortly, eyes flashing.

Clarke closed her mouth.

"You can get your board back by yourself?" Lexa checked stiffly.

Clarke nodded. She may have to drag it the whole way, but it would get back to the shop.

"Without dragging it on the concrete?" Lexa pressed, eyebrow lifted.

Clarke faltered. "I'll call Bellamy."

Lexa nodded. She lifted her board higher and bounced on her feet, holding eye contact with Clarke. They'd never been able to say goodbye like normal people. It wasn't something they did well.

"Tell Boris I'll bring him leftovers." Lexa muttered, stepping forward to guide her mom to the beach access path.

Clarke laughed wryly. "Sure, if there's any left."

Lexa shot her a look and a wink as she walked away, and then reached out to help her mom through the deepest sand.

* * *

Lexa watched Katherine pick delicately at her chicken strips. She was using her hands, which was amusing, and Lexa nodded to herself and dumped honey mustard all over her own fries.

"I visited your shop this morning."

Lexa looked back up. She found that holding her mother's gaze was easy, less filled with tension and resentment than it had been years ago. Katherine's eyes were soft now.

"It's charming, Lexa." She continued, smiling. "I can definitely see your influence on it."

Lexa ducked her head towards her fries. Her lips quirked proudly. "We like it."

"Lincoln told me that you and Clarke would be at the beach." Katherine chewed with one hand over her mouth and the other constantly wiping her fingers on a napkin. "He pointed me in your direction."

"Towards the water." Lexa nodded easily. "Usually where I'll be."

Katherine watched intently, soaking everything up. Every movement Lexa made for a French fry, every reach for a napkin and head tilt and noise. Lexa wiped self-consciously at her face and grimaced when her hands came away with honey mustard.

"So how did you meet Clarke?" Katherine asked gently.

Lexa cut her eyes up and finished chewing slowly. She saw no judgement in her mom's expression.

"She was stung by a man 'o war. I administered first aid." Lexa said carefully. She smiled slightly at the memory. Inconsiderate bitch.

"Is that painful?" Her mom wondered.

Lexa shrugged. "Yeah. But Clarke handled it."

"She seems…resilient." Katherine remarked. Lexa marveled at the sparkle in her mom's eyes. "And scrappy. She's very sweet, Lexa."

Lexa stared. She wanted to interrupt because it sounded like her mom was definitely making some assumptions, implying something with her words, but whatever picture Katherine was painting felt like the right one in Lexa's mind. She honestly couldn't think of any way to define her relationship with Clarke.

So she'd let her mom's train of thought keep chugging right along.

"She is." Lexa agreed quietly, cheeks warming.

Katherine smiled and stirred the ice around her glass, waiting for Lexa to collect herself. Lexa shook her head and propped her bare, sandy feet up on the booth next to her mother. She eyed Katherine challengingly, but her mom lifted an amused eyebrow and said nothing.

"I feel like I should tell you something, Lexa." Katherine announced when Lexa was halfway through her dessert.

Lexa hummed warily around a mouthful of key lime pie.

Her mom shifted forward, holding Lexa's gaze. "Your father-Titus-"

Lexa choked on her food. She recoiled back into the cushion of the booth, knocking her shins into the table because she'd forgotten her legs were stretched out next to her mom. Katherine set a calm hand on Lexa's sandy feet and squeezed.

"He moved to Kansas City two years ago, Lexa." She said earnestly. "I have his address and I have his phone number, and that is the last I will speak of him."

Lexa exhaled sharply out of her nose.

"That's it." Katherine assured, tilting forward to make sure Lexa was still watching her. "I just felt like you should know."

"I don't." Lexa said ridiculously. She shook her head when Katherine frowned. "I don't need to know, I shouldn't know, and I don't want to hear it."

"Okay." Her mom nodded understandingly.

"I remember things. I remember it." Lexa plowed on, softening her shoulders slightly because her mom's expression was thoughtful and gentle, a little sad.

She thought of the "C" on her board. "C" for Clarke. And church and cats and corndogs.

"I remember it. But it's in the past and I'm happy now, and…" Lexa shrugged. She took a bite of pie just to have somewhere to look other than her mom's intense gaze. "Sawring fwesh."

Katherine blinked. "What was that, honey?"

Lexa swallowed. "Starting fresh." She repeated clearly. She knew her mom could feel the meaning behind her words.

Katherine nodded, smiling. Lexa went back to her pie- she realized that she'd dipped her salty hair into the frosting- and Katherine fondly brushed the sand off of Lexa's feet.

* * *

"Did she look old?" Raven asked bluntly. "Wrinkled? Crippled?"

Clarke frowned and shook her head.

"How was her attitude? Was she all high and mighty, sarcastic bitch, or did she go for the silently judging you routine?" Raven pushed off the shaping room wall, eyes narrowed. "What did she say about Lexa's hair?"

"Tangled hot mess, man." Bellamy remarked, smiling at Clarke like he was getting away with something. He glanced at Raven. "You'll see her yourself soon enough."

Everybody was gathered in the shaping room watching him nail together some kind of vintage sign for the Pro-Am beach booth Clarke would be running. Raven- plus Octavia because she'd brought food and never left- Lincoln, Harper, and Clarke leaned lazily against the walls or the table, even though they'd been explicitly told by Lexa not to be lazy idiots today.

Clarke was pretending to modify the Pro-Am schedule. Really, she was thinking about Lexa's mom and how little she knew.

"She seemed alright. Polite." Clarke offered cautiously. Lincoln nodded, smiling at her. "And she's very pretty."

"You've heard of demon possession, right?" Raven wondered, eyeing Clarke seriously.

Octavia gasped. "Raven."

"When was the last time you actually saw Lexa's mom?" Harper wondered loudly, chopping the demon conversation off at the knees. Clarke squeezed her arm.

"Three years." Lincoln supplied. "Since before we left Ohio."

Bellamy paused his hammering. He pointed a dusty finger at Raven. "And three years is tons of time for someone to change. Look at Lex."

Raven snorted. "Seriously?"

Bellamy lifted an eyebrow.

"Lex degenerated into a vagabond, Blake."

"Hey, now." Lincoln warned, shaking his head.

Raven looked at him, and then back at Bellamy, amused. "Guys, I don't think that girl has washed her hair yet this week."

Clarke opened her mouth to protest. Lexa's hair had smelled lovely and clean- like lavender- that morning.

"She sleeps on a fucking sandy couch and barely wears shoes."

"What's your point?" Clarke asked sharply.

Raven held up her palms and leaned easily back against the wall. Octavia side-eyed her. "Just, not all change is for the better, you know."

"Lexa's is." Bellamy nodded confidently. He smiled reassuringly at Clarke, who was gradually growing more anxious and clinging to Harper's arm. "She loves that couch just the way it is. Shoes only hold her back and her hair just works, bro."

Raven rolled her eyes, smiling slightly. "She's gonna fire you all."

"Please." Lincoln scoffed. "You'd be the first one to go."

"Are you not worried about her?" Clarke asked the room as a whole, uncertain. "About…how this visit is going to go?"

Bellamy squinted thoughtfully. He absently swung the claw of the hammer into his thigh and gasped in pain.

"We'll just wait and see." Lincoln reasoned over Raven's laughter. He nodded in her direction. "She's got a bat if things go downhill. But Lexa let Bellamy read her mom's emails and he really thinks she's changed for the better."

"Email." Harper hummed dubiously.

"She's-I just don't want her to…" Clarke shook her head. Harper and Lincoln watched her intently. "She was so detached when I first met her. And-I mean- she doesn't like crying, or talking, or answering a damn question." Clarke chuckled wryly. "Like a sea turtle. I don't want her to just…hide."

"Nah, bro." Bellamy waved the hammer in Clarke's direction. "Sea turtles can't retract into their shells."

"And Lex is more of a puffer fish." Raven mused. Her eyes widened with delight. "Like, spiny and poisonous if you poke her, but still totally unable to look intimidating in any way." Raven tipped into Octavia's side, laughing loudly at herself. "Puffy, angry face."

"What the hell are you all doing crammed in here?" Lexa asked from the doorway, cutting her gaze between everybody who wasn't Bellamy.

Raven collected herself immediately.

"Working," Clarke responded, right as Octavia said "Eating," and Lincoln said "Taking a break."

Lexa's jaw clenched. Raven let out some kind of garbled snort at her expression.

"The competition is this weekend." Lexa bit out. She wasn't surprised at all to find that nobody was doing what she'd asked. "How about we go do our jobs?"

Lincoln grinned. "Lexa, you've got honey mustard in your hair."

"Where's Katherine?" Clarke wondered quietly.

Lexa's gaze finally landed on her. It softened immediately. Clarke had the ridiculous image of a puffer fish deflating. Raven couldn't seem to stop laughing to herself.

"She went home to sleep." Lexa informed. Her eyes flickered to the floor. "I-we decided that I'd sleep at home for a few days. Just to- I mean- what's the point in her being here if she doesn't even see me, right?"

Clarke smiled at her.

"So, right now, let's-dude, seriously-" Lexa glanced around the room, frowning and picking at the honey mustard in her hair. "You guys are always crammed into tiny rooms. Get out of here. Finn's coming this weekend and we need the new scuba section to be ready."

"I see it now, Ray." Octavia mused a little too loudly. "You're right. Those puffy fish are actually more threatening."

Raven was the first out of the room. She ruffled Lexa's hair on her way and paused to grimace and wipe her hand on her shorts. Lincoln and Octavia followed with bags of excess food.

Harper squeezed Clarke's arm and stepped in front of her. "You won't lose her," she whispered, holding Clarke's gaze. "Trust me, I can tell."

Clarke nodded stiltedly. Harper smiled and left her with a final squeeze. She stopped in front of Lexa at the door and reached up to pick the last of the honey mustard from her hair. Lexa squirmed before she realized what Harper was doing.

"Honestly, it's like you dumped it over your head." Harper chided quietly, flicking the dried bits away.

"She probably did." Clarke drawled, eyes sparkling.

"Is that seaweed in your hair, Clarke Griffin?"

Clarke reached up automatically to check. Her hair was salty and curly and probably turning into dreads, but there was no seaweed. She rolled her eyes at herself. Lexa sidled over after thanking Harper and backed Clarke against the wall.

"Still here." Bellamy remarked without looking up from his sign.

Lexa ignored him. "You had a pretty doleful look on your face when I first walked in here." she said quietly, searching Clarke's eyes.

Clarke flushed.

"Is everything alright? Did you get stung again? Did you break something?"

"It's-yeah. Fine, fine." Clarke chuckled lightly. She reached for Lexa's hand.

Lexa narrowed her eyes. She brushed some wild hair behind Clarke's ear and decided to believe her because she looked warm and sincere. Lexa nodded, leaning forward.

"So why are you not doing your job?" she wondered, eyes dancing.

Clarke shrugged. "I don't like my boss very much."

Lexa pressed her lips together. She dropped her gaze to the floor, smiling softly. "You know, my-my mom said you're sweet. She likes you."

Clarke's mouth fell open in disbelief. "Did you-you told her-"

"No, no." Lexa shook her head quickly and met Clarke's stare again. "Just, she said she likes you. And that you're cute." Lexa scrunched up her nose like she didn't agree.

Clarke ignored this. She held Lexa's gaze, pleased and content and warm. She opened her mouth to respond and Lexa leaned down to kiss her.

Bellamy started singing over his hammering.

"I'm glad your lunch went well." Clarke said quietly, brushing at the red skin on Lexa's cheek.

Lexa smiled. Bellamy hit the chorus of his song and began belting it out, and he gave Lexa a wink as she shuffled Clarke out of the room. Lexa had two priorities on her schedule right now: Katherine Woods and the Pro-Am.

And maybe a third if she was being honest with herself. She smiled and tugged at Clarke's mess of blonde hair as they walked down the hallway.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know! i'm late so i'm posting 3 chapters today

Clarke burst through the door of the diner with her phone in her hand and a confident smile on her face. She spotted Lexa at the counter, or the back of Lexa's brunette head and a faded red dive sweater, next to Katherine. Clarke gave Octavia a wave and nearly skipped across the diner to slide into the stool next to Lexa.

Lexa didn't seem to notice, with her head on the counter and a plate of half-eaten waffles in front of her. She could just feel the buzz of energy that plopped onto the seat next to her, and she squinted her eyes open to see Clarke looming overhead.

"Good morning, Clarke." Katherine greeted, smiling.

"Hello, Katherine!" Clarke chirped. She sat up straight, excited, with her palms flat against the counter and her feet bouncing on the rungs of the stool.

Lexa's lips tipped up. She took a bite of waffle without lifting her head from the counter. "You're spry this morning." She drawled.

"Lexa, you're getting syrup in your hair." Katherine observed, reaching out to remove the blonde strands from Lexa's plate.

Clarke chuckled, maybe a little uncontrollably. "I'm spry every morning!"

"You're going to need to wash this out." Katherine frowned at Lexa's hair.

Lexa sat up and shook her head. "It's fine. I'm going in the ocean later." She stretched her arms over her head and laughed abruptly because Clarke and her mom pulled the exact same face. The almost repulsed, fond face of disbelief.

Lexa tucked her hair behind her ears to get her mom to ignore it and looked at Clarke. "What's got you so bouncy this morning?"

Really, it was lack of sleep due to the balmy, suffocating climate in Clarke's hotel room combined with the fact that she wasn't absolutely sure how the air conditioner was supposed to work. It provided for a lot of thinking time, when she wasn't rolling around and sweating and cursing the state of Florida.

"Just watch." Clarke winked, holding up her phone.

She dialed Miller while Katherine watched curiously and Lexa tried to get Clarke to taste a bite of her waffle. Clarke batted her hand away.

"If you don't have a yes or no then I have nothing to say to you, Clarke Griffin!" Miller trilled.

"Miller." Clarke took a deep breath and locked eyes with Lexa, smiling widely. "I wish to formally accept the role of Reno Sweeney in the upcoming film adaptation of Cole Porter's Anything Goes."

Katherine gasped slightly. "Oh my!"

Miller heaved an exaggerated sigh of relief into the phone. "Well thank heaven above she's finally decided, ladies and gentlemen!"

"Hey now." Clarke said absently, more focused on Lexa's reaction.

Lexa was smiling genuinely, lips pressed together. She said nothing, mostly because her throat may have closed up a bit, and she was proud and excited and suddenly wide awake. Clarke held her gaze until Miller's shrieking in her ear finally distracted her.

Katherine leaned forward to see Lexa's face. "You used to love that musical." She mused, smirking into her coffee.

Lexa hummed, unable to wipe the small smile from her face.

"Old musicals and sixties swing." Katherine tilted her head. "It was odd. I suppose it was better to have Dean Martin turned up in your room than whatever rap nonsense the kids were listening to those days."

Lexa snorted, amused. She wondered if her mom remembered seeing Clarke perform in high school. If not, Lexa wasn't about to inform her.

She glanced around for Octavia and waved her down from the end of the bar. "Cupcakes, O!" she called.

Katherine opened her mouth to protest.

"Celebratory!" Lexa shouted again, smiling when Clarke hung up the phone. "One chocolate, one vegan, and one…" Lexa tipped her head and studied her mom. Katherine looked down at her blouse like she might have spilled something on herself.

"Peanut butter." Lexa decided, nodding resolutely.

Katherine laughed lightly. "Honestly, it's eight in the morning."

Lexa stared at her. "And what better way to start the day?"

Octavia emerged from the back of the diner and slid a plate of three cupcakes across the counter, smiling brightly. "First of the day. Extra frosting for you, Lex. And for your mom because I figured you'd be the same."

Clarke watched with interest as Katherine and Lexa tackled their cupcakes. They both peeled off the paper and tasted the frosting with their fingers, and then broke off a piece of the bottom to eat. They unwittingly moved in parallel, and Clarke chuckled to herself while she ate her own. She'd bet that Katherine would love boiled peanuts and sweet potato fries as well.

Lexa finished first because living with Bellamy had trained her to eat like a wolf. She sat back on her stool and watched Clarke lick the frosting from her lips. Clarke caught her eye and Lexa's cheeks warmed.

She slid off the stool and impulsively wrapped her arms around Clarke. "Congratulations." She proclaimed into blonde hair. She twisted side to side so that Clarke spun on her stool.

"You'll be great, Clarke Griffin." She murmured.

"A hug?" Clarke gasped, joking. She lodged a foot against the wall to stop spinning and squeezed Lexa. "From Lexa Woods?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Clarke pulled back, but kept a hand on Lexa's side. Katherine seemed fascinated with her cupcake, with half in her mouth and the rest in her hand and on her face.

Clarke smiled at Lexa. "Thank you. I will do everything I can not to ruin your favorite musical."

* * *

The days before the Pro-Am weekend were hectic, to say the least. Lexa kept on top of all of the schedules, directing her employees with the easy confidence that Clarke had become accustomed to. Unfortunately, she seemed to be going slightly insane as well, and Raven, Lincoln, and Bellamy all buckled down to avoid aggravating her.

Clarke was currently hiding out in the storeroom, semi-frantically stuffing bags full of the things she'd be giving out at their booth on the beach- mostly board wax, lanyards, and t-shirts.

"The guy from Rusty landed two hours ago!" Lexa shouted from the lounge. "What the hell are you still doing here, Bellamy?"

Clarke winced. She pictured Bellamy cowering behind the couch and began stuffing her bags faster.

"Can I help you with that, Clarke?"

Clarke nearly shrieked. She lurched sideways into a stockroom shelf and spun to see Katherine standing at the doorway, looking apologetic. Clarke seized her poor heart and smiled shakily. She'd thought it was Lexa, slinking around corners with her sharp eyes.

"That's-that would be great, Katherine. Thank you." She managed.

Katherine smiled and stepped into the room.

"If you could untangle these," Clarke held out the box of Jupiter Surf lanyards, eyeing the doorway and listening for signs of Lexa, "and then put one in each bag, and I'll do the wax."

"She keeps you on your toes, doesn't she?" Katherine mused, eyes glinting playfully.

Clarke's cheeks warmed. She dug her nails into a block of wax and smiled hard at the floor. "She's very serious about her business, yes."

"I can imagine. It seems very successful."

Clarke side-eyed Katherine, watching intently. "Are you surprised?"

Clarke had been surprised when she'd first seen how successful Jupiter Surf was. For such a small, sand-filled yellow shack, it was definitely a favorite of the local surfers. Clarke decided they appreciated authenticity and quality over mass produced shit for beach tourists.

"Oh no, not at all." Katherine shook her head quickly. "Lexa was always so bright and creative. I knew she'd find success."

Clarke slowed her work. She twirled a bag around to tie the top and narrowed her eyes curiously. "So that's-even after-" She shook her head. If she could barely get Lexa to answer her questions, her mother would probably be even less receptive. "No, nevermind."

"Go ahead, Clarke." Katherine smiled, a little nervously. "You can ask."

Clarke attempted to keep her tone even, judgement-free. "Is that why you wouldn't let her come home when she was paralyzed? Because you knew she'd find success?" Clarke used air quotes, a block of wax in each hand.

"Honestly, that was her father's decision, and it was wrong for me to go along with it." Katherine spoke quietly, eyes focused on each lanyard she was meticulously untangling.

Clarke hummed vaguely, unconvinced.

"I knew she was…gay." Katherine continued. She met Clarke's eyes, completely genuine. "Since she was in high school. So after the accident…it wasn't a surprise at all."

Clarke nodded, frowning.

"Her father was just…ignorant and angry." Katherine rolled her eyes. She yanked a few lanyards apart. "Always so angry, and hard-headed and just blind to everything that would upset him. So that's-he's in the past now. I told Lexa that."

Clarke watched Katherine wind a lanyard around her fingers. "So you're here to fix things with her?"

Katherine sighed. She smiled wryly at Clarke. "I'm here for whatever she needs. If she just needs help for this surfing competition, that's what I'll be."

Clarke tipped her head. "I think she needs her mom too." She murmured, and then smiled because Katherine looked pleased. "But yes, she'll have you lugging surfboards along the beach and vacuuming out her couch if you're not careful."

Katherine laughed loudly at that and relaxed to lean against the stockroom shelves. Clarke noticed that she was wearing rolled up pants and a pair of Lexa's flip-flops.

"So Clarke, when you start filming for that movie, will Lexa go to LA with you?" Katherine wondered. Clarke's smile faltered. "Or do you plan on a-some kind of long distance…relationship?"

Clarke remembered Lexa saying that she hadn't outlined the nature of their relationship for her mother. Lexa was more of a "let her roll with it, and then jump off that bridge when they come to it" kind of girl.

Clarke wasn't sure if she should jump off the bridge. She decided to meander precariously along the edge.

"We're not exactly…" Clarke snapped a block of wax in half and held it up to her nose to smell. "We haven't really…discussed what will happen when I go back to California."

"Oh." Katherine's eyebrows rose.

She obviously expected more, and Clarke wished that Lexa would come stampeding around the corner in her red shorts, barking orders to rescue her.

"Yes, um…" Clarke held the wax up to her face to analyze it closely. And to block Katherine's semi-amused and confused gaze. "I mean, I'm sure we'll keep in touch."

God, lame. Clarke groaned internally. Sex Wax really did smell amazing.

"I've just never had the chance to know one of my daughter's…girlfriends, before." Katherine explained, seemingly letting Clarke off the hook. "I'm glad-I'm glad she has you. And those friends of hers." Katherine chuckled to herself. "I know they're not very fond of me right now."

Clarke's eyes widened, distracted. She wondered if she was Lexa's girlfriend.

"There you are!"

Clarke's heart leapt into her throat. She and Katherine both jumped sideways into the stockroom shelves, sending a pile of wax and folded t-shirts to the floor.

"Shit," Clarke proclaimed over Katherine's quiet "Good Lord, Lexa."

"Are you almost finished?" Lexa said sharply, leaning into the stockroom. One pair of glasses sat crookedly on her nose and another was askew on top of her head. She had her sleeves rolled up with a messy hot dog in one hand and a sheaf of papers in the other.

Clarke scrunched up her nose. "You're dripping cheese on the floor."

"I need you to help me run the front." Lexa tipped the hot dog so the cheese ran up her arm instead. Katherine watched, a little repulsed, until Lexa looked at her. "Mom, can you-will you-no, nevermind, just-"

"I'll finish here." Katherine interrupted as several sheets of paper fluttered from Lexa's grasp to the floor. Lexa leaned over to pick them up and her glasses went tumbling after them- both pairs.

"You can go, Clarke."

Clarke met Katherine's gaze. It was relieved, amused, a little smug. Katherine shooed her in Lexa's direction, eyebrows raised, and Clarke shook her head slightly. And then she dragged herself forward to help Lexa wipe the cheese from her schedules.

* * *

Clarke scanned the shop from her seat behind the counter. It was mostly empty, probably because it was pouring with rain and an hour from closing. The shelves were fully stocked for the weekend and the clutter had been organized into neatly priced, wobbly stacks and rows. The booth Clarke would be running was out back- a pile of tables and banners- ready to be set up on the beach Friday morning.

Everything was prepared, everything was ready, but Lexa couldn't seem to stop double-checking. She tapped her fingers restlessly against the glass counter and looked at Clarke.

"Roan will be here tomorrow morning." She said abruptly, rolling her sleeves back up. "He said was delayed. And he said he has a surprise for us."

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "A surprise?"

"He asked how big our parking lot was."

Lexa was skeptical. Not only was her new scuba manager showing up at the last possible minute, but he'd be springing some kind of surprise on her that had to do with the size of her gravel parking lot. Clarke smiled at Lexa's expression.

"I'm sure it'll be fine."

Lexa nodded easily. She slid her glasses onto the top of her head and stretched her arms out. "We'll go with it. If not, Boris can deal."

Clarke watched her rub at her face, and then her eyes. Lexa grimaced when she realized there was sand on her hands.

"You know, your mom referred to me as your girlfriend." Clarke informed casually.

Lexa tilted sideways, staring.

"I didn't…correct her or anything." Clarke dragged her fingers along the glass countertop, and then stopped when she realized she was leaving fingerprints everywhere. "Should I have?"

Lexa shook her head shortly.

"But I'm not actually your girlfriend, right?" Clarke ventured. She found herself a little saddened by the question. "Because what's the point in me being your girlfriend if I'm leaving next week, right? I get it."

Lexa blinked at her. "You don't want to be my girlfriend?"

"I just…don't see the point."

"Because you'll be leaving?" Lexa frowned. It was ridiculous. She tugged on Clarke's arm until she slid off of her stool and stood between Lexa's legs. Clarke fixed Lexa's popped, rumpled collar.

"Right now, today, you're my girlfriend." Lexa said, catching Clarke's bashful gaze.

Clarke kept toying with Lexa's collar. Her lips turned up slightly. "Am I?"

Lexa hummed sagely. "Whether you like it or not, Clarke Griffin."

"How long have I been your girlfriend?"

"A while." Lexa shrugged. She draped her arms loosely around Clarke's waist. "Where have you been? Sleeping the days away?"

Clarke laughed. She tipped forward, squeezing both of Lexa's thighs. "I can't believe you didn't tell me I was your girlfriend."

"I can't believe you think I'd do these things with someone who isn't my girlfriend."

Clarke felt giddy. She narrowed her eyes and leaned further into Lexa. "What things?"

Lexa smiled widely. She tipped her head up so that her nose butted against Clarke's and kissed her lightly. It was an awkward angle, with Lexa sitting on the stool and Clarke standing, but Lexa adjusted slightly and tried again and Clarke moaned a little against her lips. Lexa chuckled, pleased.

Clarke shook her head to get her to stop laughing. She swept her tongue along Lexa's lip and chose to ignore the lingering taste of hot dog. Lexa's hands dropped playfully to Clarke's butt and Clarke's stayed wrapped up in Lexa's collar, probably stretching it beyond repair.

Clarke's eyes darkened when Lexa squeezed. She tipped her head back to catch her breath just in time to catch a loud "Oh!" from the doorway to the board room.

Clarke shot sideways into the countertop, steadying herself before she could send anything crashing to the floor. Lexa blinked, dazed, confused as to why her hands were no longer on Clarke's ass. Katherine stood in the doorway, cheeks flaming, with a customer behind her.

Lexa experienced a moment of nausea- a real, severe, frightening moment where she was definitely going to throw up- before she remembered that this was not three years ago. Katherine was not Russell, and she had a home and friends and the ability to walk and Clarke next to her, who'd been scared so many times today that it was probably taking years off her life.

"This young woman was hoping you could help her, Lexa." Katherine explained, still bright red. She barely managed to meet Lexa's eyes, not that Lexa was trying overly hard to let her.

Clarke wiped at her own face and patted down her hair. Lexa's collar looked like she'd been mauled by something- which she had- but there wasn't much Clarke could do about that at the moment.

"I sure can." Lexa drawled, discreetly pulling her shorts lower to cover the marks where Clarke had squeezed her thighs.

Clarke slipped out from behind the counter to stand next to Katherine while the customer, a young woman with dark hair and dark eyes, slightly taller than Clarke, sidled up to the counter with a smile.

"Sorry." Clarke whispered, side-eyeing Katherine.

Katherine almost snorted. She flushed all over again and shook her head. "Dear…You don't need to be sorry for that."

"I understand if it makes you uncomfortable."

"It's sweet." Katherine smiled reassuringly, still not totally able to meet Clarke's eyes, or even look in her general direction. "I've never seen…I mean, Lexa's never… She seemed very enthusiastic." She managed, and then grimaced at what she'd just said.

Clarke cheeks burned even hotter. She leaned against the doorway and watched Lexa with the customer.

"My name's Lauren." The woman started, smiling sweetly. "My friend was in here a couple of weeks ago. Maybe you remember her? Brunette, green eyes, gorgeous legs?"

Lexa stared dumbly. Clarke had tasted so good.

Clarke narrowed her eyes while Katherine's brow lifted, amused.

"I think she was looking for shorts." Lauren offered, eyeing Lexa's legs.

Both Clarke's and Lexa's eyes widened in recognition. Lexa's almost rolled as well- right out of her head- but she ducked at the last minute and smiled her "roll with it" smile.

"Right, the lifeguard shorts." She nodded. "Are you looking for the same ones?"

"I'm actually looking for a surfboard leash. She told me that you'd be able to help me."

Lexa seemed to brighten at that. She stood up from her stool and glanced over Lauren's shoulder at their wall of leashes. "Definitely." She nodded. "What type of board do you have? And how long is it?"

Katherine leaned towards Clarke. "Does she have 'Juicy' tattooed across her lower back, or am I misreading that?" she whispered.

Clarke turned her snort into a cough, and smiled politely when Lauren looked over.

"I don't have one yet." Lauren explained, holding Clarke's gaze for an extra beat. She turned back to Lexa and giggled like she'd said something funny. "What kind do you have? I'll probably get the same kind."

Lexa stared, disappointed that her expertise wouldn't actually be needed. Clarke and her mom seemed to be enjoying themselves over in their little corner. Lexa clenched her jaw.

"I have a shortboard with a six foot leash." She informed. "Do you surf?"

Lauren's eyes lit up and she leaned forward on the counter. "I was actually wondering if you give lessons! I know you teach the little kids how to surf so maybe you do adults as well?"

Lexa smiled tightly. "I don't give adults surf lessons."

"You won't make a single exception?" Lauren pouted. "I'm a very fast learner. I'm sure I can teach you things in return."

Katherine covered her mouth to smother something- a cry, a gasp, a laugh. Clarke didn't know.

Lexa decided to ignore mostly everything that Lauren had just said. "I don't give adults lessons." She repeated firmly. She caught Clarke's eye. "Except for…very special cases."

Lauren seemed to be getting bored with her current strategy. She reached out to pluck invisible lint from Lexa's hair, and tugged on one of the blonde strands when she pulled her hand back. Clarke pushed off the wall, frowning.

"Maybe I could take you out for dinner." Lauren suggested coyly. "There's some stupid competition thing this weekend, but maybe next week?"

Lexa's eyes flashed. She exhaled sharply from her nose.

"Excuse me, honey." Katherine surged forward while Clarke hovered indecisively by the doorway, wondering if Lauren would recognize her if she intervened. Katherine wrapped an arm around Lexa and faced Lauren, who looked mildly surprised.

"This is my daughter." Katherine informed proudly. Lexa's breath hitched. She stared at her mom.

"She actually has a lovely girlfriend already, and we're closing right now, so if there's nothing more we can help you with, perhaps you can move along?"

Lauren's mouth dropped open. She turned immediately and studied Clarke. "Is that your girlfriend?"

"I don't think that's any of your business, is it?" Katherine said sharply.

Clarke leaned against the wall, watching Lexa watch her mom. She looked ready to break down, just soft and unguarded and oblivious to everything except what her mom was saying. Clarke forced herself to stay by the wall.

Lauren's stare was on Clarke. It was judgmental now, and Clarke knew she'd been made. While Miller would press for non-disclosures, Clarke honestly didn't care at the moment.

"Well. I'll be around." Lauren finally said, looking back at Lexa. She walked to the door and waved flirtatiously, cutting her eyes at Clarke. "I'm sure I'll see you again, Lexa."

"Doubt it." Katherine said loudly.

Lexa's shoulders shuddered once before she tipped into her mom's side. Katherine wrapped both arms around her while Clarke locked the front doors. Lexa wasn't saying anything, and if she was crying it was discreet and barely noticeable, like always. She just held tightly and let Katherine run her fingers through her tangled hair.

Whatever she was feeling was brand new, long awaited, and she didn't know what to make of it. Clarke joined them, a little awkwardly, but Katherine smiled warmly at her, teary-eyed.

"Thank you, mom." Lexa mumbled, finally pulling back. She wiped under her eyes, gaze fixed on the floor.

Katherine kissed her head. "I love you, honey."

Lexa released another great, shuddering sigh at that. She went for Clarke this time, and Clarke folded her up in her arms and pressed her nose against Lexa's rumpled collar. Lexa breathed shallowly, sniffling until she could trust herself not to cry.

"It seems my daughter is quite the catch." Katherine mused lightly, wiping at her own tears.

Lexa gave a watery laugh. She pulled back from Clarke, who kept her hands on Lexa's sides, and rubbed at her eyes. Clarke wiped away the streaks with her thumb when Lexa was finished.

Lexa fidgeted, flushed and embarrassed under both of their concerned stares.

"This happens all the time." Clarke exaggerated, smiling at Katherine. "She has to beat them off with sticks."

Katherine nodded wisely. "I'm sure."

"Shut it." Lexa mumbled, dragging her hands through her hair to regain some semblance of control. She scrunched her nose when Clarke leaned up to kiss her cheek.

Her mom smiled at her, warm and concerned and nothing like the woman who stood at Russell's side years ago while he ranted about how the accident was Lexa's fault. Lexa took her girlfriend's hand and her mom's arm and pulled them both toward the back of the shop, ready for the Pro-Am.

* * *

"Lincoln, you're meeting the Quiksilver guy at the pier in an hour." Lexa said loudly, pacing in front of the couch in the lounge. "Don't forget his name." She shuffled through her papers, frowning. "What was it? Alex? Bailey?"

"Albee." Lincoln drawled, half asleep.

It was five in the morning on Friday, the first day of the Pro-Am. Lexa had ordered a meeting before the crack of dawn because she remained convinced that she worked with incompetent morons.

"Albee, right." Lexa repeated. "Don't forget that."

Lincoln rolled his eyes.

"Bpris, Raven," Lexa pointed at them, sprawled on the couch in brand new, matching blue Jupiter Surf t-shirts. Neither moved, probably because they had fallen asleep.

Harper lobbed a pillow tiredly from the couch, catching Bellamy square in the face.

"Shop opens in an hour." Lexa proclaimed. She ran a hand through her hair, clean and neat in canvas shoes, rolled-up pants, and her own Jupiter Surf t-shirt. Clarke reclined in the armchair, watching her butt to keep herself awake.

"Keep the shelves stocked and smile." Lexa instructed. "Boris, show the surfers your boards. Rusty and Rip Curl will be there before noon."

Bellamy groaned in acknowledgement.

"Roll with the flow, but no fucking around." Lexa said, eyes flashing seriously.

Raven nodded and coughed on her Pop-Tart, too tired to chew properly.

Lexa spun on her heel and fixed her blazing gaze on Clarke and Harper. Clarke immediately straightened, alert. Harper tipped groggily sideways before correcting herself.

"Clarke and Harper, I'll help you set up the booth. You hand out the merchandise, greet the surfers, the spectators, film the competition, and update the website's surf conditions and contest results." Lexa paused for a breath. Clarke watched with wide eyes, a little concerned.

"I was out there this morning." Lexa continued, ignoring the gasps of surprise that she'd been up hours before five. Clarke wasn't surprised at all. "I expect five to seven feet, low tide at about eleven twenty. Water temperature's sixty-five, hopefully no rips."

"You were at the beach this morning?" Raven questioned loudly.

Lexa ignored her completely, stepping closer to Clarke and Harper. She caught Clarke's eye and relaxed slightly, even managing one of her easy smiles.

"Basically, spread the word and look pretty."

Clarke nodded, determined.

"You can even sing if you like." Lexa winked.

"How…did you wake up to get to the beach this morning?" Bellamy wondered thickly. "It's…what time is it?"

"Mom," Lexa spun around again, sending half her papers fluttering to the floor. Lincoln rolled over to help her pick them up. "Hopefully you've started the food orders. We need constant donuts and pizza at the booth and the shop."

Katherine nodded seriously. "I'm handling it, Lexa."

"Are you sure? Because Angelo's runs out early on Fridays, and the donut place-"

"I promise you I have it covered, honey." Katherine assured, smiling indulgently.

"Did you say you were at the beach this morning, Lex?" Raven wondered again, eyes narrowed.

Lexa was shuffling through her papers, checking all of the schedules a final time. Shop opens at six, meet Dakine at seven, first heat at eight, surfboard giveaway at nine…It was endless. She looked up when the rumbling of a truck outside permeated the silent room.

"Scuba's here." She said simply, before sliding her pen behind her ear and heading for the door.

Everybody followed single file, out the yellow door and into the cool, dewy morning air. It was still dark, and the mosquitoes were out and the crickets were loud, and there was an undercurrent of excitement despite the tired bodies.

Clarke grinned as soon as she saw it, sitting right there in the gravel parking lot.

Roan slid out of the cab of the pick-up truck, the monster truck, really. He tugged on his own Jupiter Surf t-shirt, slightly small on his bulky frame. It read "Dive master" across his shoulders on the back. He waved happily at the line of sleepy people all staring at the vessel on his trailer.

"Surprise!" He greeted joyfully.

It was a thirty-seven foot dive boat, pretty much the same as the one Lexa and Clarke had been on in Miami. Except this one was emblazoned with "Jupiter Surf: Snorkeling and Diving Tours" on the hull. Roan had added their sea turtle logo and a dive flag on the back, and Lexa looked stunned to tears.

Clarke was right there with her. Everybody was, actually. Eight people in blue t-shirts lined up in the dark at the ass crack of dawn before a thirty-seven foot dive boat.

Clarke had to laugh. How she'd come this far, she didn't know. But the Jupiter Pro-Am surf competition was here, and she was excited.


	13. Chapter 13

Clarke managed two hours at the booth Friday morning before breaking into song. The surfers and spectators crowding the beach seemed to love the giveaways she and Harper would enthusiastically fling at them as they strolled by, and Clarke decided to step up her game. Give the people what they want. Her new goal was to draw the largest crowd on the beach. Jupiter Surf would destroy all of the other vendors.

Of course, Clarke was about four shades darker than usual, disguised by her curled hair and sunglasses, so she had to accomplish this goal without being recognized.

She connected her iPod to the speakers Bellamy had set up, danced around the small, tented space to limber up, and then blasted "Surfin' USA," just loud enough to overpower "California Love" coming from a rival shop set up about thirty yards away.

"Let's go, girl!" Clarke exclaimed, gesturing to Harper as she bounced out of the booth, because how could she be expected to properly let loose in such a tiny space?

Harper held up a hand, amused. Mildly embarrassed. "I'm good, thanks."

"Suit yourself!" Clarke tossed over her shoulder.

She smiled widely at the beachgoers passing by and joined the song right at "a bushy, bushy blonde hairdo," totally in her element. It was difficult to dance in the sand with lanyards and t-shirts draped over her arms, but she managed to shuffle around, bouncing with the tune and handing out goodies to the people who paused.

Some of them smiled, some danced, some approached Harper for information. Everybody knew the song.

"We're waxin' down our surfboards, we can't wait for June." Clarke was pleased with the slight SoCal accent she was pulling off. No trace of vibrato at all.

The crowd was clapping by the time the song reached its instrumental portion. Clarke spied several children dancing, flailing, around near their parents, and she grinned and hopped over to them.

"Good morning! Feel free to grab some donuts!" She greeted the adults before crouching in front of the children. The ends of the lanyards dropped into the sand. "Would you guys like some stickers?"

Clarke pulled the roll of turtle stickers out of her shorts pocket when she received several shy nods.

"These are sea turtles." She informed brightly, carefully peeling each sticker off.

One boy perked up. He held his hand out eagerly. "Like Crush!"

Clarke smiled at him and pressed the sticker to the back of his hand. "Yeah, just like Crush!" She stood back up and passed out a few lanyards to the children's parents, and then leaned over again to address the kids.

"If you guys ever want to learn to surf, that sticker will tell you where to go, okay?" Clarke pointed to the sea turtle logo. She started backing away when she registered that the song had changed. "I promise it's loads of fun!"

And then she turned on her heel and bounded around to the rest of the crowd, waiting for the lyrics of "Fun, fun, fun" to come back to her.

Lexa decided that having Clarke Griffin run her booth on the beach was one of the greatest decisions she'd ever made. She'd just finished the surfboard giveaway on the pier when a growing group gathered around the blue Jupiter Surf tent fifty yards down the beach caught her eye.

She squinted from behind her sunglasses and laughed abruptly when she recognized the small brunette bounding about with familiar exuberance.

"She's good." Lincoln mused, materializing next to Lexa.

Lexa jumped at his sudden appearance. She shook her head and shoved his shoulder. "Make some noise, man."

Lincoln's eyes danced between Lexa's enthralled gaze and Clarke down on the beach. He chuckled to himself. "All the noise in the world, Lexa. I don't think that would've mattered."

* * *

Clarke collapsed back into her seat next to Harper. She was flushed and sweating and covered in sand, and honestly how did Floridians leave their houses during the summer? After only thirty minutes Clarke was breathing thickly and regretting her song session.

"You got through the whole album." Harper observed, impressed.

Clarke lolled her head sideways, unable to speak.

Harper laughed, pulled a water from their cooler, and fanned Clarke with a program. "I think you've made us the most popular booth."

Clarke held a fist in the air, victorious. She guzzled down her water and pressed it to her forehead.

Harper rested her chin on her hand and watched Clarke. "You know, the parents of those kids you were talking to asked me if you were the one who gave surf lessons."

Clarke snorted at the absurdity, the danger.

Harper smirked. "I told them no. They seemed disappointed."

"They won't be when they meet Lexa." Clarke assured.

"I think everybody you just sang to will be disappointed when you leave in three days."

Clarke turned to meet Harper's gaze, eyes narrowing.

Harper held up her hands defensively. "I mean, I know it's necessary. I'm just saying."

Clarke hummed. She looked away and reached up to re-tie her hair back, slicking the sweaty strands off her forehead. Harper waited for the competition announcer to fall quiet before speaking again.

"What will you and Lexa do when you leave?" she asked curiously, cautiously.

Clarke's chest tightened suddenly. She licked her lips, fanning herself with the program. She seemed to be descending into some kind of heat stroke.

"We'll keep in touch." She managed.

Harper nodded, eyeing her carefully. She picked up her own program to help fan Clarke. Clarke smiled at her gratefully.

"So you'll do the whole long distance thing?"

Clarke wondered how Miller would handle a 3000 mile long, long distance relationship between his Broadway and film star and a surfer "nobody" in Florida. She wondered how Lexa would handle it. Lexa, who resented riding in anything with wheels and forgot to feed Mars Cat on a regular basis.

Clarke bit her lip. Maybe an amicable parting as friends would be the best they could do.

"We'll see." Clarke finally said, hoping to end the conversation.

Harper relented. She tipped back in her chair, still fanning Clarke, and propped her feet up on the table.

"California has gorgeous beaches." She mused, eyes closed. "And, I mean, the surf is hard to beat. Just twenty minutes from your house you have Hermosa, Manhattan, Santa Monica-"

"I know what you're doing." Clarke said wryly.

Harper smiled, eyes still closed. "Just thinking out loud, Clarke."

Clarke looked at her, unamused. She reached over and dragged her cold water bottle up Harper's bare arm. "I can't ask her to leave here."

Harper yanked the bottle out of Clarke's grasp and held her hand instead. She didn't say anything, just shrugged and squeezed Clarke's hand and leaned back to watch more of the contest. Clarke sighed. It was probably time to have a talk with Lexa Woods.

* * *

By lunchtime, Clarke was dizzyingly warm and legitimately worried about the effects of short term heat stress on her body. Lexa showed up at the booth, shoved four or five donuts into her mouth one after the other, and then suggested they jump in the ocean between contest heats, and Clarke gladly agreed.

They didn't surf, just paddled out where no waves were breaking and no children shrieking. Clarke lay flat on her longboard-probably burning her exposed back- while Lexa drifted lazily, one eye on her booth and one on the pier.

She rested a hand on the nose of Clarke's board to prevent the tide from carrying it out to sea, and Clarke lolled her head to the side and scrunched up her nose at the sun. Lexa watched as Clarke's eyes fluttered open, squinting goofily at her.

Lexa had to smile. She bit her cheek and turned away when she felt her face warming.

"What?" Clarke asked, smiling.

Lexa looked back at her, eyebrow raised.

"You're blushing." Clarke pressed.

Lexa scoffed. She ran a hand through her hair, fluffing it out, and scanned the activity on the pier. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Clarke laughed. She propped her chin on her hands and observed Lexa. She'd foregone a rashguard, so her shoulders were turning a flaming red, nearly the same color as her bikini top. Clarke noticed that the scars on her abdomen became more pronounced in the sun.

"Have you ever done drugs?" Clarke asked impulsively.

Weeks ago she would've refrained from asking such a question, but now she knew to expect a non-answer from Lexa, and she'd be perfectly fine with that. Information couldn't be dragged out of Lexa. It had to unravel or erupt violently on its own.

Lexa narrowed her eyes, half-smiling. "Why?"

Clarke shrugged. "I was just remembering the first time I saw you on the beach." She ginned impishly. "In those Aviators, when you tripped me, remember? I assumed you were a pothead."

The scene came rushing back- Clarke trudging along the beach in her flip flops and Hollywood sunglasses- and Lexa almost smiled. She shook her head slowly instead, eyeing Clarke seriously.

"Nope. Memory problems, remember?"

Clarke hummed wisely. "So you don't remember."

Lexa tilted her head. She shook Clarke's board from side to side while she thought. "I remember…" she started slowly, watching a small smile grow on Clarke's face. "…a girl falling over me, calling me a bitch, playing with a man 'o war, and then crying to me when she got her leg all stung."

Clarke pursed her lips.

Lexa looked at her innocently, green eyes glinting in the sun. "Was that you?"

Clarke sat up on her board and dislodged it from Lexa's grasp. "No, actually. Who's this other woman you're remembering?"

A fleeting expression of confusion crossed Lexa's face, and Clarke almost felt bad for teasing her. It was surprisingly easy to instill doubt into Lexa's recollection of her own memories. But then Clarke was laughing, and Lexa used an arm to splash a barrage of water in her direction.

"You kept telling me I was a lifeguard." Lexa reminded, ears tinged pink.

Clarke looked pointedly into the water. She could just make out Lexa's red shorts.

Lexa shook her head wordlessly. She chuckled to herself at nothing, maybe at Clarke, at the faces she made and the things she said. She picked quietly at her board wax for a moment.

"To answer your question, no." She glanced over to find Clarke watching her intently. "I never did that kind of stuff. Not really."

Clarke nodded easily, unwilling to pry further. "Thank you for answering me."

"Sure, babe." Lexa said, and it was stated so absently that Clarke wasn't positive Lexa even registered that she'd used a term of endearment.

She chose to let it go. And present her next question.

The large timer mounted onto the contest tent indicated that they had twenty more minutes before the start of the next heat, when the surf zone had to be cleared.

"Have you ever thought about leaving here?" Clarke asked casually.

Lexa must've been thinking about something else because she blinked blankly at Clarke for a few seconds before furrowing her brow, jaw clenched.

"I'll be leaving on Monday." Clarke continued softly, head bowed. "I just wondered…"

"Clarke…" Lexa sighed. She rubbed at her red shoulders and adjusted her bikini straps, eyes fixed on the side of Clarke's head.

"Yeah, I have thought about it." Lexa admitted, and the hopeful expression on Clarke's face when she looked up tugged on her heart. "My shop is here. My friends- Bellamy and Raven and Lincoln-this place, they saved my life, sort of. I can't just…leave them behind."

Clarke imagined that fear played a part as well. Of course Lexa couldn't leave the place and the people that put her back together.

"I understand." Clarke nodded. She smiled softly because Lexa couldn't seem to look at her. "I'm never going to beat this summer with you."

Lexa cut her gaze over, and Clarke's breath hitched at the ephemeral, stricken look she received. Lexa's face quickly set into a painfully even expression.

"You think we should break up when you leave."

"I-no." Clarke lied, because that's exactly what she'd been hinting at, but the look on Lexa's face stopped her.

Lexa's eyes flickered between Clarke's. They stood out brightly on her sun-reddened face.

"No?"

"I'm sure we'll make it work." Clarke assured, searching for confidence.

Lexa looked younger than usual- with her bright face and fluffed out hair- and more vulnerable, because of the exposed, inflamed scars and unblinking, honest gaze. Clarke was abruptly baffled as to how she'd gotten Lexa Woods in this position, where she could probably cut her down with just a few words.

But that was absolutely the last thing she wanted to do.

"We can Skype daily." Clarke suggested, oddly relieved that she'd thrown away her own break-up idea.

Lexa nodded slowly.

"And I'm constantly flying. I'm sure I'll be able to come back soon. Maybe we'll even have a break in shooting. I don't know the schedule yet."

Lexa kept nodding. She swallowed thickly and stared hard down at her board.

Clarke paddled herself closer, until her thigh pressed against Lexa's and she could wrap an arm around Lexa's shoulders. She ducked her head to catch Lexa's gaze.

"Are you okay?" she wondered gently.

Lexa gave a short laugh. She was screaming internally at herself to pull it together.

"Hey." Clarke smiled carefully, rubbing circles on the small of Lexa's back. "Head on straight?"

"It's-I'm glad that I have longer than two days left with you." Lexa murmured, cheeks reddening even further.

Clarke's smile grew. She leaned her cheek against Lexa's shoulder. "You know, you called me babe earlier."

Lexa shook her head at herself. She was out of control today.

"I liked it, goofy feet." Clarke joked.

Lexa groaned loudly. She stopped supporting her own weight and tipped off her board into Clarke's side, dragging them both into the water. Clarke shrieked and Lexa caught sight of the contest timer.

Six minutes to the next heat.

"God babe, stop messing around." She admonished, wrapping an arm around Clarke's waist- just to make sure she wasn't actually drowning. She quickly kissed Clarke's indignant lips and propelled away to swim back to shore.

* * *

By mid-Saturday, Jupiter Surf was running the most popular booth on the beach. Spectators came by asking about Clarke and her giveaways, inquiring about the new, gigantic scuba boat garnering attention in the harbor, and wondering about Raven and Lincoln, the winners of the bikini and boardies contest Friday night.

Clarke was impressed. Lexa definitely knew how to get her name out there.

On Sunday morning, Lexa woke Katherine at dawn and met Clarke at the pier for a special church service on the beach. Katherine was hesitant, probably because she'd been a member of the same strict, midwest Baptist church her whole life- where surfside worship in bare feet and summer dresses would never fly.

"I fit in better here." Lexa had said simply, offering her mom a donut over the kitchen table

Katherine's gaze had dropped to the worn, silver cross around Lexa's neck. "Okay." She'd nodded resolutely. "It can't hurt to try."

Rows of plastic chairs were set up on the beach, facing a small stage where the pastor stood, shielding his eyes against the rising sun.

"I think somebody failed to think this through properly." He joked, halfway through the sermon.

Katherine had seemed surprised to see him wearing cuffed khakis and a colorful button-down. She observed the other guests wordlessly- children in shorts and polos, adults in linen and light dresses, lots of rolled-up pants and sleeves and bare feet. Lexa couldn't tell if her mom was uncomfortable with the informality, or if she was just silently taking it all in.

"You need some sunglasses, Pastor Mike?" A grinning teenager stood from the front row, holding his glasses in the air.

"Bring 'em on up, Joey, before I go blind." Pastor Mike held his hands up, deepening his voice. "And if the blind lead the blind, both shall fall into the ditch!"

Lexa laughed along with everybody else. She was pleased to hear her mother chuckle as well.

By the end of the sermon, Katherine was nodding along with everything Pastor Mike said. She'd unbuckled her sandals and buried her feet in the sand, and followed along intently in Lexa's Bible. As the service dispersed, Lexa was dragged to the edge of the water by a few of her surf students and Katherine turned to Clarke.

"Are you comfortable with this, Clarke?" she queried.

Clarke tipped her head, confused, and Katherine gestured vaguely around. "Being Jewish, you're comfortable attending church with Lexa?"

"Oh!" Clarke's eyes widened in realization. She nodded immediately. "Yes, definitely."

Katherine hummed curiously. She seemed conflicted.

"It's important to her." Clarke elaborated. "I think it-she hasn't talked about it much, but I think it was a large part of her recovery."

Katherine's gaze drifted away to where Lexa was kicking water up into some six-year-olds' faces. "She's had the same cross since she was ten."

Clarke smiled, surprised that Lexa hadn't lost it.

"I'm thinking of moving down here." Katherine informed quietly.

Clarke lifted her eyebrows. Katherine bent forward to put her sandals back on and Clarke watched the side of her head.

"I haven't told Lexa yet, but there's nothing really for me in Ohio anymore. It's just me in that large house Lexa's father picked out, so I've put it on the market and I've got a buyer lined up already."

"Oh…wow." Clarke remarked, impressed.

Katherine half-smiled. "I'm going to speak to Lexa about it this week."

Clarke looked to where Lexa was throwing gobs of wet sand at children. They shrieked happily and flung their own balls of mud back at her.

"I think she'll be pleased." Clarke predicted.

She swallowed thickly because the sun was up now and her last full day in Jupiter had officially started, and Lexa was covered in saltwater and sand and absolutely brilliant. Katherine would be moving down here while Clarke would be leaving all these new people she loved.

"Katherine, I'm just going to take a quick walk down the beach." Clarke excused herself quickly.

"Are you-"

"I'm fine, I just need to take it all in one last time."

She breathed deeply- the warm air was suffocating- and blinked rapidly until she was away from the church crowd. The rest of the beach was mostly empty and she trudged aimlessly through the dry, deeper sand.

Lexa spun Robbie around one last time, making sure to drop him in the shallow water, and then hurried back to the plastic chairs where her mom was seated.

"Mom, where's Clarke going?" she panted, watching Clarke's retreating figure.

Katherine followed her gaze. "She said for a walk. She left fairly quickly."

"And you didn't try to stop her?"

Katherine gave Lexa a look. "Honey, how do you stop a top from spinning around?"

Lexa exhaled sharply. It was true. Stopping an emotional Clarke Griffin was like trying to spin the world the other way. She slicked the wet sand off of her arms and jogged lightly after Clarke. When she caught up, a few yards away, she could tell that Clarke was crying. Her shoulders shook and her steps wobbled unsteadily in the sand.

"Clarke." Lexa called, slowing to a walk.

Clarke stopped. Her shoulders hunched further like she was curling in on herself.

"Hey." Lexa grasped her upper arm and walked around to see her face. Clarke plowed right into her, headbutting Lexa's chest. Her arms wrapped around Lexa's waist and held on tightly.

"Are you okay?" Lexa asked quietly, cheek pressed against Clarke's hair. "Where are you going?"

Clarke pulled back, teary and sniffling and grimacing at her arms. "You're covered in wet sand." She complained meekly.

"Yeah, I- it's the kids' fault." Lexa took Clarke's forearms and brushed them off as best she could.

Clarke wiped at her eyes with her free hand. She took several shuddering breaths but couldn't stop crying.

"Clarke…"

"I miss you already." Clarke said shakily.

Lexa sighed sadly. She cupped Clarke's flushed face and used her thumbs to wipe away the tears.

"I have-I have questions, and there are so many things we haven't-" Clarke coughed. "We haven't gotten the chance to do yet."

"We'll have time, Clarke."

Clarke took a deep breath. "I didn't-I didn't get to go to the Keys. And we haven't even had-had sex yet."

Lexa's eyes widened. Clarke went quiet, ears burning. Lexa took a step closer and wrapped an arm around her waist.

"Did you want to fix that?" she whispered against Clarke's ear, looking for a smile.

Clarke sniffled. "What?"

Lexa kissed her cheek. "Right here, right now, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke pulled back to search Lexa's face. "I didn't want to push you."

Lexa laughed easily. She dragged her hair out of her eyes and leaned forward. "I have been ready for you since that first day in the shower, Clarke."

Clarke's lips twitched.

"Remember I said I can teach you things?"

"But not right here." Clarke said hurriedly, glancing around like Lexa had actually been planning on taking her in the middle of the beach.

Lexa shrugged casually. "Wherever. I'm flexible."

Clarke finally smiled. She stared bashfully down at Lexa's bare feet. Lexa took her hand and started leading her further up the beach.

"I'm sorry I didn't get to take you to the Keys, but I did say I'd show you some baby sea turtles."

Clarke gasped quietly as they passed by the dune and came upon the nest where they'd had their picnic. The earth looked like it had been disturbed, and it moved as Clarke watched.

"How did you know they would be hatching?" she asked quietly, in awe.

Lexa stood off to the side, smiling fondly. "I was here this morning."

Clarke shot her a confused gaze.

"It was about…three? I went for a walk on the beach."

Clarke stared, unsurprised. "You went for a walk on the beach at three in the morning?"

"Sure did."

It was another thing Clarke hadn't had time to fully figure out yet. Lexa's nighttime wanderings and odd sleep habits, why her girlfriend insisted on roaming about in the dark. She turned back to the turtle nest and sat cross-legged in the sand several feet away. Lexa settled next to her and Clarke held onto her arm, absently brushing away bits of wet sand.

"Will they be safe?" Clarke wondered softly, watching a small head push out of the dirt.

Lexa smiled. What a sweetheart. "I called Fish & Wildlife this morning because the beach will be packed. They'll be by soon."

Clarke scratched at the sand dried onto Lexa's elbow. "Do they make a path for the baby turtles?"

"Something like that."

Clarke nodded. She fell silent, fixed on the turtle emerging from the nest. Lexa decided that, with Harper running the booth, they could afford to stay there until the wildlife officers arrived. Clarke was awestruck.

"We have time, Clarke." Lexa said softly.

"I know."

"We have time _tonight_."

Clarke smiled at Lexa's suggestive tone, at the way she said it right against Clarke's ear.

"And we have time tomorrow, and we have loads of time after that." Lexa drawled. She slid her Wayfarers onto Clarke's face because the white sand was blinding.

Clarke tipped her head up when they slid down her nose.

"Thank you, baby."

Lexa pulled Clarke into her side, sure to knock as much sand onto Clarke as possible. "You're welcome, Clarke Griffin."


	14. Chapter 14

After photographing and naming the first seven sea turtle hatchlings for characters in Anything Goes- Reno, Moonface, Billy, Hope, Ritz, Ching, and Ling- Clarke returned to her booth on the beach while Lexa bounced around the pier, her shop, and her new dive boat in the harbor.

Clarke wasn't exactly moping, but she couldn't bring herself to put on another enthusiastic display of song and dance like she had Friday and Saturday. She still flung goodies at passers-by and made sure her music drowned out the other booths.

Harper prodded her repeatedly.

"I don't think it'll actually rain today." She mused, nudging Clarke's chair.

Clarke glanced at the sky and shrugged.

"That would be a nice change." Harper plowed on. "I think they've finished all the contest heats, right? Did you see the dolphins in the water earlier? I would've loved to go swim with them."

"Harper."

Clarke honestly appreciated Harper's grasping for distraction. But it was not working.

Harper smiled brightly at her. "Top five 80s music videos, Clarke." She requested. "Go."

Clarke was still humming "Thriller" when they packed up the booth three hours later. Harper had latched onto the song and taken the opportunity to teach Clarke the entire dance, and then shanghaied Katherine into learning the second half when she stopped by to drop off another pizza.

The closing party on the pier started with sunset. Clarke left Harper behind and weaved through the large crowds- the surfers, spectators, locals, and tourists- trying to pawn off multiple boxes of leftover donuts and whatever goodies she'd failed to hand out. The slightly cooler air felt nice on her sunburnt face, but she was sweating through her tank top and growing increasingly sticky and sandy and frustrated in her search for Lexa.

"Donuts!" she heard a voice proclaim, and she smiled and veered off in its direction.

Bellamy grinned. He was sitting on the wooden pier railing- Clarke could knock him backwards into the ocean if she pleased- with Raven and Octavia on one side and Lincoln on the other. They were all red-faced and curly-haired and bare-footed.

Bellamy held his hands out expectantly.

"Split them with everybody." Clarke warned, handing him the last box of donuts.

Bellamy hugged the box to his chest protectively.

Raven reached over and pulled at the lid, trying to peek inside.

"Hey, dude, knock it off!" Bellamy protested. He swatted at her arms and Lincoln rolled his eyes and positioned himself to prevent Bellamy from tipping backwards into the sea.

"I have to count them or you'll hoard them all away."

"There are six, Raven." Clarke wiped at the sweat on her forehead and grimaced.

"Perfect. Three for me, one for each of you."

"Uh, no." Bellamy shook his head and slid forward off the rail. He yelped at the splintering against the back of his legs and dropped the box onto the ground.

Octavia lunged for it and Raven nodded approvingly.

"Have you seen Lexa?" Clarke asked.

"You go, O!" Raven exclaimed, watching Octavia jog gaily down the pier with Bellamy hobbling after her, rubbing at his legs.

"She was talking to some of the surfers." Lincoln offered. "They liked the shop."

Raven refocused on Clarke and thrust a small, black flask out towards her.

Clarke raised an eyebrow.

"Tequila to stop your sulking. Lex's probably half-drunk by now. You need to catch up."

"I'm not sulking." Clarke mumbled, taking the flask anyway.

"And Lexa's not drunk." Lincoln protested.

Clarke coughed loudly. The drink was smooth, but it went down the wrong pipe, and Clarke took another swig or two to settle everything down. Raven watched, amused.

Clarke cleared her throat and handed the flask back. "It's so hot." She murmured, mostly to herself. The drink only made her warmer.

Raven nodded. "Everybody's sweating like fat pigs."

Lincoln looked repulsed. Clarke glanced over his shoulder and caught sight of Lexa leaning against the railing further up the pier. Her face was lit up by yellow pier lights, and her brown hair stuck around her forehead while she laughed at whatever was being said to her.

"You should go pull her away." Lincoln said quietly. "She's probably had enough."

Clarke nodded shortly. "I will in a minute."

She turned back to Lincoln and Raven and squared her shoulders. "I have- my flight's early tomorrow. Not ungodly early, but…I'm not sure if I'll see you before I leave."

Raven scoffed. She smiled menacingly, but her eyes were too glassy to be legitimately threatening.

"Oh, you will see me, Griffin. In the shop. I don't care what time because I'll probably be there all the goddamn night. Lexa says there's an armadillo hiding in the storage room."

Clarke stared.

"And if you don't come and see me, I'll track you down in la la land and smother you myself."

Raven strode away, sipping from her flask, and Lincoln grinned. "Smother with love, she means."

Clarke turned to him, lips pressed together. She put a hand on Lincoln's chest, right over the sea turtle logo, and tapped fondly. "I'm gonna miss you."

Lincoln wrapped his arms around Clarke's shoulders. "We'll miss you too, movie star."

"Keep everybody else in line." Clarke instructed, muffled against his chest. "Don't let Lexa kill them."

"You're the only one who can tame Lexa."

Clarke chuckled. "Well, try. Please."

Lincoln pulled back and ruffled Clarke's curled, sandy hair. "I will."

"Okay." Clarke watched him for a moment. There was heat lightning in the distance behind him and he was smiling warmly, patiently, and Clarke finally nodded to herself and stepped away. "Okay, thank you, Lincoln. I'll see you soon."

Clarke didn't know what exactly "soon" was, but it was a promise she'd keep.

* * *

Lexa could tell that Clarke was having a hard time approaching.

She'd left the pier and was now wading through the water about fifty yards up the beach. Lexa walked towards her quietly, sinking in the sand, used to roaming about in the dark. Clarke's head tipped, but she didn't turn around.

Lexa gave up her stealthy approach and came up quickly behind Clarke, splashing through the shallow water. She wrapped both arms around Clarke's waist and kissed her cheek.

"Hey there!" She greeted.

Clarke tilted backwards, chuckling. "Hey."

Lexa nuzzled into the back of her neck.

"Are you drunk?" Clarke wondered, scrunching up her shoulders. She could smell Lexa's breath, or her own breath- maybe that drink was stronger than she'd thought- mixed with seawater and salt.

Lexa dragged her dark hair over one shoulder and kissed her neck. "Nope. Why are you wandering around in the dark?"

"You make it seem like fun. I decided to try it out."

Lexa spun Clarke around, arms still around her waist. She lifted an eyebrow. "And?"

"It's lonely and boring."

Lexa scoffed quietly, tipping her head forward. "Lonely and boring." She echoed. She kissed Clarke, just long enough to realize that Raven had gotten to her as well with that black flask of tequila, and hummed at the taste.

"But we can make it not lonely and boring." Clarke murmured. She shivered when Lexa's hands dropped lower on her back.

Lexa gasped quietly against Clarke's ear. "Really? How?" She pressed her cold fingertips along the waistband of Clarke's shorts. "Go swimming? Boil some peanuts?"

Clarke snorted. "Shut up."

"We can name more turtles after fictional characters."

Clarke cut her off with a kiss. She arched up and her hands landed in Lexa's hair. A muffled shriek made its way out when Lexa's cold hands crept up her back. Clarke pressed further forward to get away from them.

Lexa chuckled and seized the opportunity to deepen the kiss further. Her tongue brushed Clarke's and her hands roamed as far as they could reach.

Clarke's hands seemed to be stuck in Lexa's hair. Tangled in the dark, salty, I-just-got-out-of-the-ocean textured mess. She tugged roughly to free them and Lexa gasped and squeezed whatever flesh she could find.

"I don't…want to be…one of those people." Clarke panted, sweaty and dizzy.

Lexa's forehead tipped against hers. "What people?"

Clarke swung an arm around vaguely. When her hand returned she made sure it landed on Lexa's ass. "The ones having sex under the pier."

"When have you ever seen people have sex under the pier?"

"It's like bleachers. Or high school stairwells." Clarke explained fervently. She kissed Lexa's neck, and then sucked on the spot and dragged her teeth and tongue over it when she pulled away. "People have-they have sex under the bleachers. It's tacky."

Lexa hummed absently. "And uncomfortable."

Clarke pinched her, and Lexa's hips jerked forward, surprised. Clarke smiled smugly.

Lexa's pupils were wide and dark, lips swollen. The humid air was suffocating her, or Clarke and her messy blonde hair and flushed face and arms and legs and dimpled smile was suffocating her. She could barely catch her breath.

"Let's go." She breathed, turning on her heel with Clarke's hand in hers.

Clarke staggered for a step and then hurried along beside her, nervous and eager. Everything was so hot. Gobs of sand stuck to the saltwater on her legs and beads of sweat crawled down her back.

"Where are we going?"

Lexa licked her lips. Clarke's hotel was a good fifteen minute walk. Somebody was bound to be at the shop and Raven's black flask had ruled out Clarke driving anywhere. Lexa headed for the Jeep anyway. It was parked on the empty beach with all of their supplies from the booth strapped precariously on top.

Clarke tugged on Lexa's arm when she saw where they were going. "I can't drive, Lexa."

Lexa spun and flashed a smile. She kissed Clarke's knuckles. "We're not driving anywhere."

Clarke narrowed her eyes. The only vehicle less suited for what they were about to do would be a Mini Cooper. Lexa swung open the back door of the Jeep and climbed in to fold the seats forward.

Clarke's eyes landed on her ass again- the same faded red shorts and full thighs. Like a magnet. She decided she'd have to write Bellamy a note apologizing for defiling his Jeep.

Lexa wrenched the lever back and jammed her knee into the seat, swearing under her breath when it didn't move.

"Damn Boris." She muttered, giving the seat a hard shove with her shoulder. "Fucking twenty year old Jeep."

She pulled the lever again and pushed with all of her body weight.

"Fuck!" She proclaimed when it just wouldn't budge.

Clarke took a silent picture of Lexa with her phone- mostly to immortalize her ass- and then climbed in next to her. "Slow down, honey." She soothed, amused. "How do you do this?"

Lexa blew the hair out of her face and slammed her hand against one of the seats. "Pull the lever. Push the seat."

She watched, tense and frustrated, as Clarke easily folded up half of the backseat. Then Clarke lodged her hands against the other half and looked expectantly at Lexa, who pulled the lever.

"I can hear it-it's clicking or something." Lexa gritted out, breathless and pushing against the seat.

"Does it need grease?" Clarke threw out.

"It needs to be dismantled and lit on fire." Lexa muttered. She shoved her shoulder against the seat a final time, and it gave way and folded forward, sending Clarke and Lexa toppling with it.

Clarke's wrist twisted and Lexa bit her tongue when her jaw hit the floor, but they were finally lying flat and totally concealed except for the legs dangling out the back of the Jeep. Lexa sat up, seized Clarke's calves, and pulled them in, and then shut the back door.

She kneeled between Clarke's legs, chest heaving from exertion and desire. Maybe a bit of heat stroke. She could swear her tongue was bleeding.

Clarke arched her back a little, laughing lightly, and that was enough for Lexa. She tipped forward and landed with one elbow at the side of Clarke's head. Her other hand gripped Clarke's jaw so that she could crush their lips together.

She quickly learned that Clarke liked to writhe around, whether it was conscious or not. But it was good. It was dynamic. She also learned that Clarke was obsessed with either her red shorts or what was under them.

Clarke slid her fingers under the waistband and palmed the flesh there, and Lexa pulled out of the kiss and gasped against her cheek.

Clarke smiled breathlessly, pleased with herself. "Take them off, baby."

Lexa shook her head. "Tops first."

She sat up and pulled her t-shirt over her head. Her hand slammed into the top of the Jeep, and she was tangled for a moment until Clarke sat up to help her. Clarke didn't hesitate to unhook Lexa's bra and slide it over her shoulders. She kissed and nibbled from Lexa's throat down her chest until Lexa tugged impatiently at the bottom of Clarke's tank top.

She let herself fall backwards when she was free of it, and Lexa tumbled with her.

"It's really…really hot." Clarke managed.

Lexa groaned lowly. She delighted in the way their bodies plastered together, but she could barely breath. She wrapped one arm around Clarke's neck and slid lower to kiss between her breasts. Clarke pulled on the knots in Lexa's hair. She giggled when Lexa's tongue tickled her and hissed at the feel of her teeth.

It was honestly the greatest learning experience Lexa could imagine. When Clarke's knees drifted apart and her hips started rolling, Lexa climbed back up to kiss her lips. Clarke traced her thumbs around her breasts and looked up, wide-eyed.

"Now?" she gestured at Lexa's shorts.

Lexa grinned. "You first."

Clarke's hips lifted immediately. One of her legs was bent at the knee and jammed against the side of the Jeep, but Lexa managed to drag her shorts and underwear down and off before sitting back to remove her own shorts. She tipped clumsily sideways as she yanked them over her feet and smiled when Clarke laughed loudly.

"Oh, what a night," Lexa sang playfully, until Clarke sat up and gripped her cheeks to kiss her again. Lexa followed when she lay back down, letting her fingers poke and prod and drag over every inch of bare, damp skin.

"Lexa." Clarke panted thickly, hands roving freely. "It's so hot in here."

Hot and gritty and cramped and slick. Clarke rolled her hips up against Lexa's thigh.

"You keep-mmm." Lexa licked her lips. "You keep saying that."

Lexa felt it too. She was light-headed, either from the heat or the way Clarke's hand trailed lower and lower. Her fingers stopped for a moment and traced the scars on Lexa's abdomen.

"You're so beautiful." She remarked easily, like she was telling the world that the sky was blue.

Lexa flushed further. Both of their faces were turning alarmingly red.

Clarke grinned and lifted her hips, rubbing forcefully.

Lexa choked a groan and dropped her forehead next to Clarke's. She turned slightly and kissed Clarke's ear. "Clarke Griffin."

"Hmmm?"

"You are…delightful and gorgeous and full of trouble."

Clarke took the opportunity to shift her hand again. Lexa went rigid, lost for words, before relaxing and snaking her own hand between their bodies. She loved the noises she discovered she could get Clarke to make- high pitched whimpers and laughs and hisses and deep groans. She loved the way her nails scraped along her back, dug into her arm, scratched her scalp when she was tangled in her hair.

It was clumsy, on both parts, and Lexa knew she'd have bruises from jamming so many rogue limbs into the sides of the Jeep, from rolling on top of levers and lumps, from Clarke's teeth.

The grit and the heat, the lighting in the distance, the sound of the waves all faded away. Unless Clarke was just finally losing consciousness. She listened to Lexa's breathing and clung to her, arm wrapped tightly around her neck.

Something dug into Clarke's back when she finally arched up, crying out, and Lexa curled a protective hand around the small of her back and eventually collapsed with her head on Clarke's heaving chest. Her tongue was still sore, she was cramped and gritty and sweaty, and she was pretty sure that she'd kneed Clarke several times, and all she could do was laugh.

She rolled until her lips were pressed firmly against Clarke's breast, and Clarke chuckled too. It lifted her chest and bounced Lexa's head around.

"Have you no boundaries?" she whispered breathlessly, dragging a hand through blonde hair.

Lexa sat up and twisted awkwardly to roll down the backseat window. She sighed at the breeze- warm, but at least the air was moving- and then lay back down with Clarke.

"Will somebody find us in here?" Clarke wondered absently. She imagined tourists peering through the window, cameras in hand.

She probably wouldn't be able to bring herself to care if they did. She was not moving.

Lexa figured they had until sunrise. Her eyelids were heavy and she lazily patted Clarke's boob. "Sleep, Clarke Griffin." She instructed softly.

Clarke refrained from laughing again because she knew it'd rock Lexa around. She smiled widely- so widely- and delighted in the fact that she had ten whole hours to commit this feeling to memory.

* * *

Clarke drove the jeep back to Lexa's house before dawn. She was half asleep, so she went as slowly as possible, wearing Lexa's shorts and an inside-out tank top. While fumbling around for their belongings, she and Lexa discovered that they'd actually broken the lever on the backseat of the Jeep.

Lexa had shrugged it off. "Bellamy left my laptop in the rain once. We'll be even now."

Clarke felt horrendously guilty, but it did not stop her from climbing into bed with Lexa- after a much needed shower- for a few more hours of sleep. When she woke next, there was a warm body wrapped around her back and soft breath ghosting over her ear. She blinked sleepily and rolled over, curling closer to Lexa.

Clarke smiled to herself. Lexa's hair was fluffed out and clean, her lips curved into a small pout. Clarke kissed them impulsively. She was surprised when Lexa's eyes blinked open almost immediately.

"Did I wake you?" Clarke whispered.

Lexa shook her head lazily.

Clarke searched her face. Her green eyes were so bright in the morning.

"I love you." Clarke admitted softly, because Lexa had to know before she left. There was somebody who loved her, who'd fallen in love with her, three thousand miles away.

Lexa tensed. She stopped blinking. Maybe she stopped breathing. Clarke wasn't sure. She searched under the covers for Lexa's hand.

"You don't have to say it out loud." Clarke assured gently.

She could see it in Lexa's eyes, her body language, her touch, her flush. She didn't need the sentiment voiced back to her, even if it would've been nice.

Lexa searched for anything to say.

I love you. I love you. I love you.

Raven always told her she fell in love too easily. It was partly her own fault when she was dragged through the dirt because the other person never felt the same way. But here was Clarke, with her sweet smile, telling her it was okay to keep it to herself for a while longer.

Lexa wrapped an arm around Clarke's shoulders and pulled her against her chest. Clarke suspected it was just to hide her face.

"You're going to be so great, Clarke." Lexa managed, voice husky with sleep.

Clarke chirped a small noise of thanks into Lexa's hair.

Lexa tightened her hold. Clarke was warm and small, and her hair was curly and smelled delightful where it tickled Lexa's nose, and Lexa never wanted her to leave the bed.

"I'm going to miss you so much." She said quietly. She coughed lightly to disguise a sniffle, and Clarke tried to pull back to look at her face, but Lexa held strong.

Clarke rubbed her back instead, dragged her fingers through brown hair. "I'll miss you too." She gave a watery laugh. "I already miss you."

"You smell really good." Lexa breathed after a moment.

Clarke laughed. She fisted her hand in Lexa's soft t-shirt.

"Tell me if you have any problems with Finn." Lexa instructed shakily. "Or any problems at all. Don't go surfing unless you take someone with you or there's a lifeguard on duty."

"A lifeguard like you?"

Lexa chuckled and wiped at her eyes. Clarke felt her nod.

"You need to be careful too, please." Clarke requested quietly, tugging on Lexa's hair. "If you feel wheezy go to the doctor. Don't stay up all night."

Lexa hummed her acknowledgement. She had to keep swallowing to stop herself from crying.

"I'm really glad that jellyfish stung me." Clarke proclaimed, smiling. She finally worked herself loose of Lexa's arms and pulled back just enough to see her face.

"Man o' war." Lexa corrected.

Clarke rolled her eyes and Lexa poked her in the ribs.

"I'm really glad that man o' war stung me, goofy feet."

Lexa growled playfully. She rolled on top of Clarke and briefly kissed her cheek before dropping lower to blow a raspberry against her neck. Clarke shrieked with laughter. Lexa thumbed away her tears and then collapsed on top of her, dead weight.

Katherine could hear them from the guest room. Clarke's laugh was vibrant and loud, and Lexa's was sweet and melodic. Katherine had already said goodbye to Clarke yesterday, with a hug and a sincere promise to call soon, and she smiled to herself at the bursts of laughter and shrieks permeating the walls.

She had honestly never heard Lexa laugh like that before. She listened as it tapered off and wondered if it would continue when Clarke was gone.

* * *

Clarke found Bellamy wolfing down waffles on the couch in the shop lounge. He shot to his feet as soon as he saw her, wrapped her in a hug, and spun her around. It lifted her heavy heart for about half a second.

"Leaving now, C?" he guessed, setting her back down. He wiped at the crumbs on his face.

Clarke could smell maple syrup and chlorine on him. She smiled sadly and nodded. "Harper's saying goodbye to Raven. Our driver's waiting outside."

Bellamy grinned. "That's fancy."

"You should come to LA. I'll show you fancy."

"Oh yeah. I need to test out those beaches." Bellamy drawled, nodding. "Don't be surprised when I come bangin' on your door."

Clarke smiled at him. She was actually excited for that. She glanced around the lounge- as faded and sandy and cluttered as when Lexa had first dragged her in here. There were Gatorade bottles and a ten year old Bop-It on the coffee table now.

"Bellamy-"

"I know. I will." Bellamy cut her off, nodding confidently.

Clarke pushed at his shoulder. "You don't know what I was going to say."

Bellamy tilted his head thoughtfully. "Take care of Lexa. Don't let her drown. Don't let her suffocate. Be nice to her." He recited, eyes sparkling. "Unless you were going to tell me you love me. In which case, dude, Clarke, this probably isn't the best-"

"God, stop." Clarke laughed.

She waited until Bellamy was silent and expectant.

"Can you make her boiled peanuts today?"

Bellamy's eyebrows lifted, amused.

"And sweet potato fries." Clarke shoved her hands into her pockets. "I know she requests them all the time and you guys don't really take her seriously with it, but…Just today. Please. She'd like that."

Bellamy watched her. "I can do that. Is that it?"

Clarke licked her lips and glanced around. "We sort of…broke one of the seats in your Jeep last night trying to get it to fold down. One of the lever things snapped."

Bellamy stared at her. His eyes widened when realization hit.

"You…Oh my God." He laughed stiltedly. "Dude. That's…Lexa is so…Dude. I mean, good. Way to go."

Clarke flushed to her ears. She studied Bellamy warily. "I told her to help you fix it. Or I can pay for you to-"

"No, no." Bellamy waved her off. He laughed abruptly and shook his head. "Seriously, way to go. I left Lexa's laptop in the rain once. She threw my phone in the pool, but now we're totally even."

Clarke snorted. She was not surprised that Lexa had left out the part about the phone.

"Thanks, Boris." She said softly.

Bellamy pointed at her while she backed away. "Hey now. Only your girlfriend can call me that."

Clarke swept into the hallway and up into the boardroom, where she ran into Raven, who seized her arm and dragged her behind the shelves of longboards. Raven looked tired, but manic, and Clarke let herself be pulled.

"Harper's in the car. Lexa's up front." Raven informed brusquely.

Clarke nodded slowly.

"I trapped the armadillo under a plastic box, so we're working on that now."

"I…" Clarke frowned, impressed. "Good-good job."

"Thank you, thank you." Raven nodded proudly. "What beach is closest to where you live?"

Clarke blinked. "In…What, in LA?"

Raven rolled her eyes. "Where the hell else?"

Clarke huffed. Her gaze drifted off as she thought and Raven crossed her arms.

"Probably Manhattan or Redondo?"

"Manhattan or Redondo." Raven echoed, nodding to herself. "And how large is your place over there?"

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "Why?"

"Don't question it."

"You're being rather aggressive. I just want to know-"

"Multiple bedrooms?" Raven cut her off. "Or is it some artsy studio shit?"

Clarke sighed, resigned. "I have a three bedroom house, Raven."

"Oh!" Raven smiled cheerily. "Good for you."

Clarke was lost. She glanced around to make sure she recognized her surroundings, so she was looking the other way when Raven pulled her into a sudden hug. She relaxed all her limbs like she'd been taught to do when attacked by wild animals.

"I like your movies, Griffin." Raven said into her hair, much less aggressively. Almost kindly.

"I like your voice sometimes, when you're not harping on. I like what you've done for the shop, and I like how you've been with Lexa. Bitch actually smiles now."

Clarke frowned when Raven pulled away. "She smiled before."

Raven shrugged. "On the beach, maybe. In the dark, with food. She smiled at little things. You're making her happy with the big ones."

It was perhaps the most profound thing Clarke had ever heard.

Raven wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gave her a final squeeze. "So don't screw it up."

Clarke eyed her. "I'll miss you too, Raven."

She took a deep breath and walked through the boardroom to the front of the shop, where Lexa was leaning against the counter with Mars in her arms. She looked sullen, and she glanced up hopefully when she heard Clarke's footsteps.

Her dark hair was straightened. Those Hollywood glasses sat on top of her head.

"Time to go." Clarke murmured, dragging her feet so that they scuffed along the wood floor.

Lexa heaved a shaky breath.

"Make sure you feed Mars Bar every day." Clarke said quietly. She tickled under the cat's chin and stepped to the side when Lexa set him on the floor.

Lexa wrapped both arms around Clarke's shoulders and hugged her tightly.

"You'll come back?" she asked softly, and then shook her head against Clarke's shoulder. She honestly didn't know what she was thinking. She felt like a child.

Clarke choked. "Of course, baby."

Lexa nodded.

"Don't forget me." Clarke smiled tearfully. She pulled back to press a kiss to Lexa's lips. "I know all about your memory problems."

Lexa frowned, brows furrowed. The effect was thrown off by her red-rimmed eyes and teary cheeks. "What-what are you talking about? Why are you in my shop, Clarke Griffin?"

Clarke shrugged. "Because I love you."

All of Lexa's words, everything she'd ever spoken got stuck in her throat. Her chin shook trying to force something out.

Clarke tapped her cheek fondly. "Are you gonna kiss me or not?" she asked gently.

Lexa exhaled sharply from her nose. She nodded. Of course. Of course she would. She gripped the back of Clarke's neck and pressed a sweet, lingering kiss to Clarke's lips.

And then Clarke was blinking rapidly and heading for the door. "I'll call you when I land." She said in the most weirdly strained, high-pitched voice she'd ever managed.

No words came to Lexa. Everything was locked inside and she couldn't drag it out.

She waved to Harper and watched Clarke climb inside the car. She couldn't watch it drive away because that was ridiculous and she just didn't do things like that. Things like say "I love you" out loud because she was an absolute idiot. She retreated to the lounge, where Bellamy and Raven were reclined with plates of waffles, and dropped into the armchair.

They slowed their eating and watched her carefully. "Hey, Lex."

Lexa tipped forward, head in her hands, and cracked. Bellamy and Raven were on either side of her immediately. Her phone buzzed, and she unlocked it shakily without looking up, shoulders heaving.

There was a picture of Clarke, smiling pitifully in the back of the car, obviously waving at the phone, with the caption:

**See? It's not so bad, baby. See you soon. Xoxo.**


	15. Chapter 15

"You really should eat healthier."

Lexa blinked at the amused face on her computer screen. She chewed deliberately on her pretzels and shrugged.

"Or at least at regular intervals." Clarke pressed. "It would be better for your metabolism."

The image froze briefly, with one of Clarke's eyes half-open and her mouth twisted on the word "metabolism," and Lexa snorted lightly.

"Boris and Raven take all my food."

Clarke leaned playfully towards the camera, eyes sparkling. She was in her trailer, lounging on a couch that she complained was too firm, too clean, and too empty, waiting for Miller to call her to rehearsal. Lexa smiled at her lifted eyebrow.

"They wouldn't steal your food if you had some carrots, maybe a selection of fruit." Clarke tapped her screen. "Whole wheat toast is nice too. And there's a wide variety of cereals that do not have cartoon animals on the box, in case you didn't know."

Lexa patiently allowed Clarke to talk at her. She sat lazily back in her chair, feet propped on the coffee table, and chewed on her pretzels, delighting in the new, powdered cheesy variety Bellamy had purchased. Clarke's voice was always so chipper, even when listing the benefits of Rice Chex over the Cap'n Crunch Bellamy would always buy.

Some might think it was piercing. Lexa just smiled at Clarke's ebullience.

"And I know you like peaches." Clarke said sternly. "Don't even try to pull that face."

Lexa stared blankly at her screen.

"I'll tell Bellamy to buy some the next time he goes grocery shopping."

Lexa finally spoke up, shaking her head. "No, no Clarke. I'll just go with him and pick out some things."

Clarke watched her for a moment, lips pressed together. Lexa was halfway through her bag of pretzels. She realized that she'd spent the first twenty minutes of their limited Skype session talking about food.

"You don't have to if you don't want to, of course." Clarke amended, staring at her own picture on the screen. "Just…you know, eat what you like, I suppose."

Lexa held two pretzels over her eyes. "I do like peaches." She drawled. "Maybe I'll teach Bellamys about the food pyramid. I think he only knows about the top part."

Clarke chuckled.

"I'll show him a few new aisles at Publix. It'll be a whole new world."

Clarke nodded, pleased. She watched Lexa lick the cheese from her fingers and scrunched up her nose. Lexa purposely slowed her actions and smiled mirthfully. Her teeth were a shiny white block on Clarke's screen.

"That is not attractive." Clarke scoffed.

Lexa tipped her head back against the chair and ran her tongue along her index finger. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Clarke's gaze was unblinking, entranced by the sharp curve of Lexa's jaw.

"It's probably mostly sand, anyway." She managed, remembering how Lexa's hands would always be glinting with specks of grit that would never fully wash off.

Lexa hummed and winked at the screen. "Delicious, delicious sand."

Clarke rolled her eyes. "How was the surf this morning?"

Lexa sat up immediately, eyes bright. She rolled up the pretzel bag and tossed it onto the coffee table and then ran a hand through her wet hair. Clarke laughed at her reaction.

"I have a story for you." Lexa announced, grinning.

Clarke gestured with her hand. "Let's hear it, baby."

Lexa's gaze remained on the screen when Mars bounced lightly into her lap. "Lincoln wanted to come with me this morning, which is fun, even though he surfs like a grom and wears booties with boardies." She began, scratching absently at Mars's back.

"Right." Clarke said sagely.

"So we went out past the pier-"

Lexa cut herself off at the sound of Clarke's trailer door opening. Clarke turned and smiled at somebody out of frame, and Lexa sighed before Miller even came into the shot. He smiled quickly at Lexa before gliding further into the trailer.

"They're ready for you, Clarke." He declared, breathless. "They're starting from act two. Loads to cover today. Did you practice those changes to Buddy, Beware?"

Lexa stared at the side of Clarke's head and picked quietly at the sand under her nails.

"Who do you think I am, Miller?" Clarke replied indignantly. "Of course I did."

"Well, chop, chop, chop!"

Lexa heard Miller clapping his hands together in the background, and then a lot of shuffling and banging as Clarke turned back to the camera.

"I'll call you later, baby." Clarke promised quietly. "You can finish the story."

Lexa shrugged. "It's not that great."

"I want to hear it."

Lexa sighed. She sat forward, smiling softly, and Clarke searched her face. It was so much harder to see things through the screen- a slight quirk of Lexa's lips, a flash of her eyes. Even the small noises she made were lost through the speakers.

"Go sing your socks off, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke smiled fondly at her. "Love you."

Lexa barely managed to return the sentiment before the call was disconnected.

* * *

Thanks to Roan and the dive boat, which he and Lexa had called Babanees, the scuba section of Jupiter Surf was growing rapidly. An hour before opening, Lexa sat on the floor of the shop painstakingly untangling the hoses, valves, and cords of every BCD that she was adding to the rack, and muttering to herself because honestly she should be able to delegate this task to one of her moron employees.

"Can't even put together a scuba vest." She groused, yanking at a regulator until it came free from the pile.

She sat back on her heels and frowned at the hose. The regulators shouldn't even be in the pile since there was nothing to attach them to without an oxygen tank.

Lexa flung it, gently, off to the side. "Dumbasses." She grumbled.

She was red-faced and sweating, tugging violently at a twist of corrugated hosing, when Raven strolled through the front door half an hour later. Lexa's gaze cut over immediately, and the fright on Raven's face was real but fleeting.

"Why are you late?"

"Good morning, sunshine." Raven greeted, eyes rolling.

Lexa turned back to her pile of scuba gear. "You were supposed to be here an hour ago."

She shifted slightly when Raven crouched next to her and began pulling on the other ends of the corrugated hoses. Raven pointed, and Lexa switched wordlessly to work on the rubber exhaust tubes.

"I was out late with Octavia." Raven smirked. "And I met with Roan this morning."

Lexa narrowed her eyes. "What about?"

"Not much." Raven shrugged casually. Her voice was far too light, disinterested. "Dolphins, donuts, Monday things. Dude's good for a laugh."

Lexa shook her head. Honestly.

"Whatever you're doing, don't fuck anything up." She mumbled.

Raven jerked one of the corrugated hoses, painfully pinching Lexa's finger. Lexa's eyes flashed up at her but Raven just sighed heavily and went back to work.

"What-"

"You need to knock it off, Lexa." Raven said tersely

Lexa rubbed her finger against her shorts and ground her teeth together.

"Call her, text her, Skype her, whatever." Raven waved her hand around. "Just remind yourself that she's still there because you're driving us fucking crazy."

"Somebody ate my peaches." Lexa defended ridiculously.

Raven actually stopped and looked at her, probably to determine if she was serious, and Lexa stared hard at her own fingers pulling uselessly at the hoses.

"Are you-no, whatever." Raven shook her head and laughed shortly. "I'll drive you to the store later." She offered, a shade softer. "Or get Bellamy or Lincoln to take you."

"They're picking up two boards right now." Lexa clipped.

Raven frowned. "Are they…running there? Because the Jeep's outside, so…"

Lexa froze. She dropped the scuba gear and stood up, jaw clenched, eyes ablaze. She tripped on a vest as she stepped towards the boardroom but caught herself and kicked it away from her ankle.

"Oh shit." She heard Raven laugh as she stormed away.

Lexa groaned as soon as she stepped foot in the lounge. Bellamy and Lincoln looked over from the couch, eyes wide. Katherine stood near the fridge with a magazine and a cup of coffee.

"Hey, Lexa." Bellamy called hesitantly. "Is everything-"

"You're supposed to be halfway to Jacksonville right now." Lexa bit out, digging her nails into her palm.

Bellamy's mouth dropped open in realization. Lincoln leapt up from the couch so fast that he knocked the coffee table back several inches.

"Oh shit." Bellamy said. He glanced at the time on his phone and held up a hand to stop Lincoln from rushing around. "No, wait dude, it's okay. We don't have to be there until the afternoon. We have time."

Lexa laughed shortly. Bellamy looked a bit frightened.

"No, you don't have time, because you're probably going to get lost." Lexa said sardonically. Her voice was deceptively airy. "And then you're going to want to pick up leashes and traction pads, and you might even stop at the beach to test the boards out. And you are definitely going to hit a thunderstorm on the way home. You need to leave now."

"We got it, Lexa." Lincoln assured, and then slipped out the yellow door before Lexa could spin and berate him.

Bellamy bounced around the room, gathering his belongings while Lexa's eyes bore into him.

"My bad, Lex." he muttered as he walked to the door, hugging multiple articles of clothing, hats, and bags of food to his chest. "See you later."

He paused halfway through the yellow door and turned to meet Lexa's gaze. "And dude, you should call her or something. I got you more peaches. They're in the fruit bowl."

The door shut on Lexa's quiet "thank you," and she moved around the recliner to sit on the couch.

"Honey." Katherine remarked, and Lexa jumped because she'd forgotten her mother was in the room. "Is everything alright?"

Katherine sat next to her while Lexa nodded.

"Bellamy and Lincoln are good boys. They just forgot. No harm done."

Lexa nodded again. She looked down at her hand, at the half-moons on her palm and the red mark where her finger had been pinched. She could feel her mom's gaze on her.

"I've found an apartment nearby." Katherine said, watching for her reaction. "The lease is for eleven months. And it's pet friendly, so I thought I might get a dog. A terrier of some sort."

Lexa snorted softly. She sank back into the couch and set her feet on the coffee table. Her ribs, legs, and head hurt, and she could honestly just fall asleep right there.

"So that means I'll be around." Katherine said lightly. She patted Lexa's thigh. "I'll be here to help out. Maybe if you go somewhere, if you're not here for whatever reason, I'll be able to help with the shop."

Lexa's eyes cut suspiciously up to her mother's.

"And your friends aren't as useless as you like to joke." Katherine added, smiling innocently.

"Are you going somewhere with this?" Lexa asked lowly.

Katherine took her hand and rubbed warmly at all of the red marks. "Nope. Nowhere, sweetheart."

Lexa sighed. She closed her eyes and tipped her head against her mom's shoulder. Katherine dragged a hand through her salty brown hair.

"I like having you around." Lexa admitted quietly.

She liked that her mom's blouse smelled faintly of lemons, instead of the overpowering, headache-inducing perfume she remembered.

Katherine smiled. "Clarke said you'd be pleased."

Lexa glanced at her mom's watch. Clarke would be awake in an hour, hopping out of bed and heading to her costume fitting. She'd probably stop for coffee, multiple times, and she'd have on those big sunglasses and the pink flip-flops she loved because they molded perfectly to her feet.

Lexa chuckled to herself. The thought of Clarke Griffin in a sailor suit for Anything Goes warmed her heart.

* * *

Clarke yanked at the bottoms of her jeans to get them off of her legs. They were stuck, because she was hot and sweaty and disoriented, and she tipped into her closet door before tumbling to the floor.

"Shit." She muttered, rolling to sit up.

She missed wearing shorts every day. Wearing shorts and dresses, and not having to beat her hair into submission every morning. She pulled off her jeans and angrily hurled them away. Once she was in her pajamas, she bounced onto her bed and opened her laptop.

Clarke almost felt guilty for sending the Skype contact after midnight, Florida time, but Lexa had insisted. And really, Clarke hadn't needed much persuading.

She smiled when Lexa's face appeared on her screen, sleepy and disheveled, with "Call Me Irresponsible" drifting from her speakers.

"Don't you look cute." Lexa rasped, smiling tiredly in the dark room.

Clarke filled with warmth and looked bashfully down at her crossed legs. She realized she'd forgotten to check her hair and hurriedly ran a hand through it. Lexa watched her affectionately.

"Were you asleep?" Clarke asked.

Lexa shook her head. "I was playing with Mars."

Clarke squinted at the dimness on her screen. She could tell that Lexa was at the shop instead of at home, which wasn't too worrying, but she looked incredibly tired. And her hair was wet, so she'd probably been surfing.

"I should let you go so you can sleep." Clarke said, pouting sympathetically.

"Don't you dare disconnect, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke hesitated, mouth open.

"How was rehearsal today? You did 'I Get a Kick,' right?" Lexa queried, because she knew Clarke wouldn't be able to hang up without answering.

Clarke licked her lips, obviously conflicted, and Lexa leaned towards her screen, eyeing it soulfully. Her lips curved into a fine pout.

"Tell me, baby. Please."

Clarke wavered. "But you look so tired."

Lexa decided not to be offended. She'd only rolled out of the ocean an hour ago, so she knew how she must look. "I don't-" She coughed several times because her voice came out as a wheeze, and then tried again.

"You know I don't sleep. I'm supernatural."

Clarke eyed her, lips pressed together. "You're super-something."

Lexa settled back into the couch and lifted an eyebrow pointedly.

"We did rehearse 'I Get a Kick out of You' today." Clarke relented, tipping her head. "The choreographer switched some things around but we're ready to shoot. Our last rehearsal is tomorrow."

Lexa hummed thoughtfully. "And then how long will the actual filming take?"

"It's scheduled for four months."

It would probably be several weeks longer because re-shoots would require heading out on a boat, but Clarke chose not to mention that.

Lexa stayed quiet, rolling it over in her head. Four more months.

Clarke watched her. She wished she could say that they'd have full weekends free, or time where Clarke wouldn't be needed, but she couldn't be sure. She didn't want to give Lexa false hope. She was already full of it herself. Full of something.

"I'm going to let you sleep, baby." Clarke murmured when Lexa rubbed at her eyes. "What time should I call you tomorrow?"

Lexa shrugged, staring off at something out of the shot. "You don't have to if you don't have time."

"I will make time." Clarke insisted. "When is best for you?"

Lexa sighed sullenly. She cleared her throat and coughed again, and Clarke frowned.

"Clarke, honestly, just…whenever." Lexa waved a hand around her face. "I'm always here."

"Are you getting sick?" Clarke asked gently.

"No."

"Are you okay?" Clarke toyed with her blankets. Lexa couldn't seem to look at her. "I don't want to hang up if…I mean, you're acting distant."

Lexa laughed shortly. It came out rough and wheezy, and Clarke made a mental note to call Raven.

"You're three thousand miles away, Clarke. How else should I act?"

Clarke bit her lip. It was the middle of the night. Things would be better in the morning. 'Call Me Irresponsible' had switched to 'The Best is Yet to Come,' and Lexa seemed to be chuckling at the irony.

"Do you ever feel…" Clarke trailed off, unsure where she'd been going.

Lexa smiled wryly. "Like a plastic bag?"

Clarke couldn't laugh. She wondered if Lexa ever felt that maybe this relationship wouldn't work.

"I know it's not easy." Clarke said quietly. "It's not easy for me either, but we've managed a month. Let's just go to sleep now, and tomorrow we can-"

"Yeah, alright." Lexa nodded quickly, rubbing at her face.

There was a lump in Clarke's throat that refused to budge. She knew the separation would be easier if they'd had more time together. Married couples could be apart for months at a time. They knew their partners' hearts and their bodies inside and out, and there was no doubt that they'd see each other again.

Clarke was clinging to a summer in Jupiter. She threw herself into Anything Goes every day, barely managing Skype sessions before passing out. But she knew it was different with Lexa, who didn't sleep, who surfed at night and roamed the beach and fed Mars Bar if she happened to remember. The expression on her face was constantly breaking Clarke's heart.

"I'll call you tomorrow." Clarke promised, voice strained.

Lexa nodded silently, staring off into the corner of the room.

"Love you." Clarke whispered.

Lexa's eyes flickered over. She gave a fleeting, watery smile and a quick "Love you too" before shutting her laptop.

* * *

Lexa bobbed on her board near the pier, not too concerned with actually catching a wave. Her legs hurt and she was content to just roll with the swells. She paddled around, careful not to get too close to the dark, looming structure of the pier, and vaguely kept track of her location using the green lights on the shore.

She hummed to herself, a song that kept morphing because her mind was a dizzy blur. Impulsively, she caught one of the waves, just to get herself further away from the pier. She bailed early, out the top of the wave, and splashed back into the dark water with a laugh.

"I could be a pro." She chuckled, swimming in easy circles.

Her knees ached with every kick, and she ducked under the blackness of the water, just to determine if she could see anything.

She couldn't, but she dragged herself down as far as the leash on her board would let her, and soaked up the overwhelming darkness. She couldn't tell which way was up and she couldn't see a thing- not a shadow or a reflection or her hand in front of her face.

It was suddenly terrifying, and she kicked back up to the surface and emerged, breathing heavily.

"Don't do that again, Lexa." She scolded herself. "What are you doing?"

She climbed back onto her board and slicked her hair back. She stared at her legs for several moments, and then pinched her thighs just to make sure that she could still feel them.

She smiled proudly. "Nope. Not paralyzed."

Lexa glanced towards the green lights on the shore and lost her breath when she saw two figures standing there waving at her. It wasn't a casual wave, definitely urgent, and after clearing her ears and coughing several times she could tell they were yelling.

"Boris and Ray." She heaved a sigh and then winced and pressed a hand to her aching chest. She laughed to herself. "Bellaven and Borven. Braven and Rellamy."

She caught the next swell to ride in, not even bothering to stand up because she didn't completely trust her legs. She slid off her board in waist deep water and ignored the way her rashguard rode halfway up the back.

The burning sensation hit her after two steps. It was a hot knife against her hip, and she leapt sideways when it registered in her muddled mind.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck…" she groaned lowly, surging towards the shore. She couldn't see a thing in the water. She could be tangled in a web of man 'o war for all she knew.

"What is wrong with you?" Raven yelled angrily, waving around a flashlight. "God, Lexa, seriously-"

"Wait, dude, wait." Bellamy interrupted as Lexa staggered out of the water, clutching her side. He rushed towards her and clicked his own flashlight on. "Are you- what is that? What happened?"

"I just got stung." Lexa ground out. She laughed abruptly and tipped into Bellamy's side. "Like Clarke. Just like Clarke, Bellamy."

"You're fucking drunk." Raven whispered, watching her.

"Do you remember when Clarke got stung?" Lexa plowed on, letting Bellamy hold her up while Raven unstrapped the leash from her ankle. "She had- she had lines all over her leg."

Raven held up Lexa's rashguard and shined the flashlight on her side, right above her hip. "God, Lexa." She muttered.

Lexa hummed against Bellamy's shoulder. "Poor Clarke."

Raven ran a hand over the inflamed, violently red webbing on Lexa's side.

Lexa lurched away, biting down hard on her lip. "Fuck, that-that hurts."

"It's your own fault, idiot." Raven chastised. She gave Bellamy a nudge on his shoulder to get him walking. They moved slowly, hindered by Lexa's wheezing and general disorientation.

Raven's phone rang as they stepped onto the path away from the beach, and she glanced at Lexa and answered it with a sigh.

"Hey."

Clarke was pacing around her living room in mismatched socks, shorts, and one of Lexa's sweatshirts. She froze at Raven's voice. "Did you find her?"

"At the beach, in the dark, drunk, and stung like a dumbass." Raven relayed.

Lexa waved an arm in her direction, brows furrowed. "Hey, who's that? Is that Clarke?"

Clarke gasped. "Stung? By what?"

"Maybe it's not going to work out between us, Clarke." Lexa mused loudly, right against Bellamy's ear. "You're there and I'm- I don't- where am I?"

"Can you shut her up?" Raven hissed at Bellamy, ignoring Clarke's disembodied voice.

"She's just sad." Bellamy said, pausing so that Lexa could catch her breath.

"What was she stung by?" Clarke screeched into her phone, frantic. "Is she there? Is she alright?"

"Griffin, sit down." Raven said sharply. She hitched Lexa's board up under her arm and waited. Clarke planted herself on the edge of her couch.

"Are you seated?"

"Yes." Clarke said impatiently.

"She was stung by a man o' war." Raven informed. "Just like you."

"Just like Clarke." Lexa sang, further up the path. Raven snorted fondly.

"So we're taking her back to the shop, we'll put her to bed, and I'll call you in the morning." She assured Clarke. "Or she will. Whatever."

Clarke chewed on her lower lip. "You're sure she'll be okay?"

"Totally fine." Raven pulled a face, bobbing her head skeptically. She watched Bellamy and Lexa swerve off the sidewalk and stumble back into the curb.

Clarke sighed. "Will you tell her I love her?" she requested quietly.

"Sure thing."

Bellamy and Lexa paused for a coughing fit, and Raven hung up the phone and caught up to them. She tucked the surfboard under one arm and helped to support Lexa with the other.

"I feel sick." Lexa rasped as they crossed the Jupiter Surf parking lot.

Raven scoffed. "Do you really? Because you look fantastic."

Lexa turned to her, scowling.

Bellamy and Raven managed to maneuver her into the shower, and then Bellamy left to prepare her sofa bed and Raven not-so-gently pulled the rashguard over Lexa's head. She sat her on the floor and planted her side under the stream of hot water.

Lexa was silent. She looked even worse in the light of the shower. Raven observed dark circles under her glassy eyes and a worrying, wheezy cough that Lexa was trying to contain.

Raven crouched and nudged Lexa's knee to get her turn slightly. "Come on, babe. You need to be under the water."

Lexa complied wordlessly. She ground her teeth against the fire engulfing her abdomen.

"Clarke said to tell you that she loves you." Raven said softly, balancing just out of range of the shower spray.

Lexa nodded slowly, eyes on the surfboard in the corner of the shower, on the black "C" on its nose. She released a wheezy, squeaky breath and smiled to herself. "I want to go home."

* * *

When Lexa woke up, it was because she couldn't breathe. Her face was pressed into the back of the couch and she'd been coughing in her sleep, shallowly attempting to pull air into her lungs. She rolled over abruptly and gasped at the stabbing pain winding over her abdomen.

The nausea and headache-right at her temples, pounding dully- only registered once she opened her eyes to the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

"Oh my God." She rasped, angling her head over the edge of the couch in case she needed to throw up.

"That's attractive." Raven drawled from somewhere near the fridge.

Lexa curled her legs up and shut her eyes again. She could feel the raised welts on her side through her t-shirt. She tried to take a deep breath, but it sent her into a coughing fit, which intensified her headache and made her feel like crying.

She probably was crying. Every part of her body seemed to be in pain.

She felt a warm hand on her arm and opened her eyes to see her mom sitting on the coffee table. Katherine smiled softly and dragged her hands through the tangled, blonde mess on Lexa's head to tie it back from her face.

"Lincoln picked up your prescription this morning." Raven declared, plopping down next to Katherine. She opened a small, white bag and grinned at the pills inside. "Antibiotics. Fun."

Lexa tried licking her lips. Every breath came out as a squeak.

"Gatorade, waffles, ice packs for the stings, and sweet potato fries thanks to Octavias." Raven pulled each item out of a canvas bag and placed them on the coffee table.

Lexa moved her head slightly, just to take stock of her limbs. She was in a threadbare pair of blue shorts and an old white t-shirt, and she had half the beach caked to her feet and face. The other half was in her tangled hair.

"And finally," Raven said slowly, leaning forward. She smiled slightly and dangled a slip of paper in front of Lexa's eyes. "Your boarding pass."

Lexa blinked to focus her gaze on the plane ticket.

Katherine clasped her hands together primly. "You leave this afternoon, honey. Fort Lauderdale to LAX, with a stopover in Phoenix."

Lexa rolled her head until her face was pressed into the couch cushion. "Yeah, right." She chuckled throatily.

"Yes. Right." Raven pinched Lexa's knee, and Lexa jerked away and whined at the burning pain in her side. Katherine lightly slapped Raven's leg.

"You have six hours." Raven chirped, prodding Lexa's shoulder. "Sit up, take your pills, take a shower, put some aloe on that jellyfish shit, and pull yourself together. If you don't, TSA will think you're a crack mule and you'll end up in federal prison."

"I'm not going to see her." Lexa mumbled.

Raven shared an exaggerated, confused frown with Katherine. "Uh, see who? We're sending you to look at an available shop space in Redondo Beach."

Lexa blinked. She pulled her face out of the couch and sat up slowly, careful not to upset her head or rub her side against anything. She licked her lips again and thanked her mom quietly when she was handed her antibiotics and a Gatorade.

"It's two thousand square feet. Outdoor shower, hardwood floors, right by the beach." Raven described.

Lexa leveled her with a stare. "And it just happens to be ten minutes from Clarke's house."

Raven scoffed. Katherine shook her head and they shared another amused glance, like Lexa was being ridiculous. Lexa narrowed her eyes.

"Is that where Clarke lives?" Raven asked curiously. She shrugged. "I didn't know."

"It really is a beautiful space, Lexa." Katherine added. "I'll show you some pictures before you go."

Lexa ran both of her hands over her face, rubbing until she couldn't feel any more grit under her fingers. She drank half her blue Gatorade and then shook her head.

"That's not- I can't just fly to LA." She protested tiredly. "I have this shop to run."

"Roan and I will be taking over your duties." Katherine supplied, hands clasped neatly on her knees.

Lexa stared at her.

"Between the two of us, we've got it covered, honey." She promised. "I know how much this place means to you and I would never let anything happen to it. And Roan's doing remarkably well with his scuba section. He told Raven that he'd be glad to have more responsibilities."

Lexa would never fully trust anybody with her shop. But she'd always wanted to surf in southern California. She wanted to experience the cold water, to have to wear a wetsuit, to cross rocks on the beach and watch the sunset- rather than rise- over the water.

She lifted her t-shirt absently and eyed the web of red sting marks.

"You said you wanted to go home." Raven reminded, watching Lexa's actions.

Lexa dropped her shirt and cut her gaze to Raven's. "You mean last night?" she asked sarcastically. "When I was drunk?"

"And wounded and sick and being an absolute dumbass. Yeah." Raven nodded genuinely. "You said you want to go home. I know you didn't mean Ohio. You didn't mean your house and you sure as hell didn't mean this shitty green couch."

Lexa exhaled sharply from her nose. The squeaky cough that followed ruined her facade.

"You meant her. She's home." Raven sat back and shrugged. "Or you can just go, check this place out, and surf. Your call."

The excitement rising up inside Lexa was undeniable. And the anxiety, worsened by the fact that she couldn't take any deep breaths. She tapped her fingers over her thigh, eyes on the floor.

"Whatever you do decide," Katherine said softly, "we just don't like seeing you how you were last night, Lexa. Something needs to- We're just worried."

"Don't be." Lexa said shortly.

She was distracted. Would she need booties for California? What was the oversized luggage charge for shipping a surfboard? How happy would Clarke be to see her?

If she wasn't absolutely, sparklingly elated, Lexa didn't know if she'd be able to handle it.

"You smell…like seaweed." Raven said lightly, leaning back on her hands. She tipped her head thoughtfully. "With a hint of dead-"

"I can't drive anywhere." Lexa interrupted, glancing between Katherine and Raven. "So I'll need lots of cab money. The case for my board is at Lincoln's house and I need to see Roan to confirm that you're not lying out of your ass, Raven."

Raven shrugged, smiling. "Fair enough."

Lexa gave another rumbling, hacking cough. She drank the Gatorade her mom handed to her and then cleared her throat.

"What time are you taking me to the airport?"

Katherine smiled proudly. Raven nudged her in the side.

"I told you she'd go." She said smugly. "She just needed a kick in the head."


	16. Chapter 16

Clarke was growing frantic. She stalked rapidly around her kitchen with her phone gripped tightly in one of her sweaty hands, just waiting for it to ring. Nobody had contacted her since the night before, when she'd been informed over a staggered phone conversation that Lexa was stung by a man 'o war while drunkenly surfing in the dark.

It was a sitcom, ridiculous.

Now nobody in Florida would answer Clarke's calls. She'd tried them all—Lexa, Raven, Bellamy, Lincoln, Octavia, Roan, and Katherine—and decided that it couldn't be a coincidence that not a single one had picked up.

The end was coming. Either Lexa was in an awful condition—too awful to communicate over the phone, with every person she'd ever known gathered at her bedside—or she was planning a break up. Clarke's stomach roiled at both possibilities. She sighed despairingly and tipped forward against the kitchen counter, pressing her forehead against the cool granite.

"Lexa, Lexa, Lexa." She said lowly, lolling her head from side to side.

She knew Lexa wouldn't be this cruel on purpose. She'd at least send Clarke a text, an "I'm alive. Chill out." Clarke rolled her eyes over to the clock on the microwave. It was four pm. A whole day had passed without any news.

Clarke's head shot up from the counter when her phone vibrated in her hand. She pressed it to her ear without checking the name and growled throatily at Harper's "Hey Griff."

Harper hummed sympathetically. "Nobody's called you back yet?"

"Nope!" Clarke nearly shrieked. She thudded a fist absently against her counter and spun around. "Nobody has called me. Nobody has answered. Either they're all trapped in the eye of a hurricane, or they've lost all consideration and every manner they've ever learned. It's so rude, Harper."

"I'm sure there's an explanation."

Clarke scoffed. "There better be."

These people were driving her out of her mind. Her weekly laze-around Sunday had turned into a twisted rush of nerves and worry.

"Have you tried calling the shop?" Harper wondered.

"It's Sunday."

Harper made a short noise of realization. "Closed for church."

Clarke hopped up onto her kitchen island and gasped at the cold surface against her thighs. She lay back until she was staring up at the double pendant light hanging from the ceiling, knocking her feet impatiently against the cabinets.

"Give them until tonight." Harper suggested gently. "If you don't hear anything by midnight our time, we'll call somebody else."

Clarke begrudgingly asked, "Who?"

She thought she'd exhausted all of her options. If Harper hadn't called, she'd probably be on the phone with the Palm Beach County Police Department.

"I have a friend at the hotel." Harper offered. "And at that coffee shop on the corner. We have people who can check, Clarke. Don't worry."

Clarke remained silent. She shut her eyes when they started to burn.

"Do you need me to come over?" Harper asked. Her voice was soft, warm.

Clarke shook her head. "No, just-"

She swallowed the rest of her sentence as her phone vibrated again, hot against her cheek. The display read "Raven," and Clarke rolled right off the island in a panic. She landed on her bare feet, clutching the edge of the counter, and managed "Harper, I'll call you back. My phone's ringing," before switching calls.

She heard the first syllable of Harper's "Okay," and then silence.

"Hello?" Clarke's eyes scrambled blankly around her kitchen. "Raven?"

"Nine missed calls and twenty-two texts." Raven drawled. She sounded more impressed than annoyed, and Clarke experienced a fleeting moment of relief before her anger set in.

She pursed her lips while Raven spoke.

"So what's in your bonnet, Griffin? Did-"

"Is Lexa alright?" Clarke interjected sharply. "How is she? And why is nobody answering my calls?"

Raven was quiet for a moment. "She's sleeping."

Clarke waited, wide eyes boring into her blurry reflection in the stainless steel fridge.

"We picked up her prescription." Raven relayed more seriously. "You know those antibiotics wear her out."

Clarke could picture her girlfriend conked out on the green couch in the lounge, wheezing like an asthmatic and clutching a gritty pillow. She knew what antibiotics did to Lexa, and she smiled ruefully.

"And she forgot her phone." Raven tacked on when Clarke failed to respond.

"Why have none of you answered my calls or texts?"

The line was muffled for a moment, and Clarke recognized Roan's rushed whispers and Raven's biting tone. There was a loud crackle, like the phone was dropped, a melodious tone from Octavia, and then Raven's voice again.

"We were sleeping."

Clarke narrowed her eyes. "All of you? Together? All day?"

"On and off." Raven said casually. "We were on a boat too. Roan took us snorkeling. No service."

"You left Lexa alone?"

There was another beat of silence, and then a tight "Yes" from Raven.

Clarke took a moment to process everything. She was baffled. Raven was obviously hiding something—and lying through her teeth—but Clarke couldn't care less what it was as long as Lexa was alright. She still couldn't rid herself of the pesky, despairing thought that Lexa wasn't happy, that she was planning some kind of elaborate break up.

"Will you ask her to call me, please?" Clarke entreated quietly. "And take care of her."

Raven hummed a vague assurance. She cleared her throat and said, "What are you up to for the rest of the day?"

Clarke would probably order in, rehearse her lines, cry a little bit, and then go to bed with the headache that had been building all day.

"I might watch a movie later." She told Raven.

"So you'll be home." Raven hedged.

"I don't plan on going anywhere." Clarke said slowly. She honestly didn't have the energy to turn up whatever shenanigans Raven was sending her way. "Why?"

"No reason. Lex will want to know when she wakes up." Raven said lightly. "Girl's got the memory of an old man and somehow you're always at the front."

That was the truth, Clarke knew, and she held onto that assurance as she hung up the phone.

* * *

Lexa strode stiffly through baggage claim at LAX, glad to be free of the cramped, stuffy atmosphere of the plane. She carried a canvas backpack on her back, her shortboard case slung over one shoulder, and a duffel over the other. Her surfboard grazed the man 'o war sting—the wild mass of angry, raised red lines under her t-shirt—with every step, and she tried to contain her wheezing so that it wouldn't draw any attention.

In only a matter of hours, the antibiotics had given her breath back, but they did nothing for the burning web on her abdomen. Lexa brushed past several bulky shoulders and staggered out to the curb, where she was hit with the cool, dry evening air of southern California. It actually chilled her—shockingly different from the suffocating heat she'd just left—and she dumped all of her things on the ground to rummage through her backpack for a sweatshirt.

Lexa was pulling it over her head and eyeing the line of taxis jostling for prime pick-up position when one of the drivers approached, gesturing at her luggage.

"Taxi, miss?"

Lexa quickly pulled the sweater down and reached up to flatten her hair. She thought about triple-checking the map on her phone to make sure Clarke's house wasn't within walking distance. Her hands were sweating already.

"I-yes. Please." She nodded stiltedly. "How long is the drive to Redondo?"

The driver tossed her duffel and the shortboard strap over his shoulders and nodded at a white SUV with a "TAXI" display on top. "Twenty minutes in this traffic. You know where you're going?"

"I have an address."

Lexa climbed into the passenger seat while the driver—the dashboard ID said "Buck"—folded the back seats down to fit her surfboard. She buckled her seatbelt tightly, wincing at the pressure against her abdomen, and took several deep breaths. Buck seemed trustworthy enough, as trustworthy as any cab driver. Lexa thought about asking him to drive carefully, but figured that he'd be doing that anyway, unless he was a maniac.

She dug her shaky hands into her pants pockets and stared hard out the window, focusing on anything except the jerky, abrupt turns out of the airport. Buck was merging onto Pacific Coast Highway when Lexa finally turned her phone back on. She groaned lowly at the slew of texts and missed call notifications that came pouring in, all from Clarke.

Buck glanced at her, amused.

Lexa dialed her mom immediately, and Katherine answered with a cheerful, "Hello, honey! How was your flight?"

"It was fine, mom. Has anybody spoken to Clarke yet?"

Katherine hummed. "Raven called her about an hour ago. She was very worked up."

Lexa slumped back in her seat, dismayed. Of course Clarke had been worked up. She was ignored by everybody. Lexa hoped Raven had placated her instead of riling her up further.

"Honey? Are you still there?"

Lexa grumbled.

"Okay, good." Katherine said. "You should know Bellamy and Lincoln broke down on a bridge over the St. John's River in Jacksonville right after you left, but they called AAA, so they're okay."

Lexa stared blankly out the window, unsurprised. The traffic wasn't terrible and Buck drove like a sane person, but Lexa still kept one hand anxiously balled up in her pants pocket.

"But Roan drove the dive boat around for a while and booked two more full scuba tours, so everything's going well." Katherine informed brightly. "Are you excited, honey?"

Lexa glanced down at her shoes and cracked a smile. "Maybe."

"She'll be so pleased to see you."

"Yeah." Lexa murmured. If Clarke was anything less than deliriously overjoyed, Lexa would probably have to turn around and go home. She dragged her gaze back to the window and eyed the hills in the distance, the sloping curves that led to the coast, so different from the vast expanse of flat swampland she was used to.

Lexa hung up with her mother after promising to her call later. She opened her window as Buck drove through Manhattan Beach and smiled at the salty air. She couldn't see the sea yet, but it was near. Clarke was near, maybe five minutes away, and Lexa found that she couldn't smother her smile at the thought.

Buck pulled off Pacific Coast Highway, rather abruptly because of his delayed GPS, and he mumbled a distracted apology while Lexa white-knuckled the door handle. He drove a couple of blocks through a pleasant, suburban area—lots of large, neatly manicured, variegated houses, Lexa noted—and rolled downhill towards the beach before turning onto Clarke's street.

Lexa's heart thudded away as she squinted at the numbers of each address. Most were gated with privacy fences, and Buck pulled up against the curb right outside one of the houses whose gate was open. Lexa made a note right away to remind Clarke to keep it closed.

It was a narrow, two-story house—pale green with brick accents and a large window over the garage—and there was a dark blue sedan parked in the driveway. Lexa smiled at the colorful flowers dotted around the path to the front door. It was very Clarke.

She slung all of her bags and straps over her shoulders and paid and tipped Buck, and then walked off the sidewalk onto Clarke's driveway. She heard a whirring sound behind her, and she turned—bewildered—to find the dark wood gate rolling closed. She blinked at it and briefly wondered if Clarke had purposely trapped her.

Clarke watched with dismay as her gate closed with the stranger standing in her driveway. She'd meant to shut the woman out, not catch her. The stranger walked further up the driveway and Clarke narrowed her eyes through the peephole of her front door, heart rate quickening.

"Oh my God." She muttered.

She recognized the canvas shoes, the size of that surfboard. Lexa paused to rearrange her bags and then turned up the path to the front door, and Clarke gasped as her face was revealed. The same sharp jaw, eyes crinkled with amusement, messy dark hair.

Clarke dropped the gate remote to the floor and fumbled frantically with the deadbolt on the door.

"Lexa!" she called, like she was locked inside her own house. She tripped out as soon as the door swung open. Lexa dropped all of her bags the moment she laid eyes on Clarke—the small, blonde creature barreling towards her in nothing but a sweatshirt and boyshorts.

"What are you doing here?!" Clarke shrieked, colliding with her girlfriend.

Lexa lost her breath and tripped backwards over her surfboard, but staggered and kept them both upright. She smiled widely into Clarke's hair and lifted her into the air.

"Hi, baby."

Clarke squealed until Lexa set her back down. She stood up on her toes and tangled a hand in Lexa's hair and kissed her fully. Lexa chuckled against her mouth.

"Are you lost?" Clarke asked, high-pitched and teary eyed.

Lexa observed her, brow furrowed. "I don't know. Who are you?"

"I think you remember."

Lexa smiled warmly and tilted forward to kiss the corner of Clarke's mouth. "Hi, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke knew they should probably go inside—she was wearing no pants and the air was chilling her legs—but she refused to let go of Lexa. She nuzzled into Lexa's neck and mumbled, "What are you doing here?"

"I was in the neighborhood," Lexa drawled, smiling. "I was just walking around and some…strange woman trapped me in her driveway."

"You should've warned me." Clarke protested. "It's not proper to-" She cut herself off and gasped, finally understanding. "That's why they were all ignoring me!"

Lexa hummed. She stood patiently while Clarke tugged her sweatshirt and t-shirt up, watching her inquisitive, worried brown eyes. Clarke gasped softly and traced the tips of her fingers across the raised, red lines marring Lexa's side.

"Let's go inside." She said abruptly, dropping Lexa's shirt and stepping away to collect her duffel bag and backpack.

Lexa picked up the surfboard case and grinned as she followed Clarke to the front door, eyes on her ass. "Your undies are cute." She called, and she laughed when Clarke slowed her pace to allow for a deliberate, exaggeratedly ridiculous swing of her hips.

Clarke's house smelled faintly of citrus and Chinese food. She led Lexa through the entryway, past a hallway and the staircase—made of the same hardwood as the floors, with a wrought-iron banister—and into a bright, open living room. The walls were all comfortable creams and blues, matching the large fabric sofa set. Lexa placed her surfboard onto the floor and dropped face-first into the couch with a groan.

Clarke, with one foot on the single step leading to the kitchen, laughed and hurried back to her.

"Baby." She whispered, leaning over the back of the couch.

She lightly slapped Lexa's butt, and then squeezed when she got no reaction. Lexa snorted into the pillow. It smelled like Clarke and it was free of sand and she loved it already.

Clarke smiled fondly. She moved Lexa's surfboard to the corner of the room, and then grabbed a water bottle, a bag of ice, and a dish towel from the kitchen. She returned to the couch and placed the water next to her abandoned take-out and the ice against Lexa's side, over her t-shirt but under the sweatshirt.

"Lexa." Clarke whispered, tugging at her girlfriend's shoes. She brushed the sand off her bare toes. "Turn over."

Lexa obliged, eyes closed.

Clarke nudged her shoulders and managed to settle at the end of the couch with Lexa's head in her lap. She recognized the wheezy breathing, and she soothingly ran a hand through Lexa's tangled hair.

Clarke bit her lip, still trying to rid herself of a niggling thought. "You didn't come here to break up with me, right?" she asked, so quietly she wasn't sure it had left her lips.

Lexa's eyes flew open. "What?"

"You-" Clarke faltered with a hand stuck in Lexa's hair. "That's not why you came here, right?"

"Of course not, Clarke."

Clarke released a shaky breath.

"I'm checking out a commercial space at the beach tomorrow." Lexa shut her eyes and pressed her face against Clarke's sweatshirt. "It was my mom and Raven's idea."

"Oh." Clarke nodded slowly.

She bit her lip to smother her smile and un-paused the movie on her television. It wouldn't do to build up hope right now. It wasn't even Lexa's idea to be here. Her girlfriend would probably be drunk surfing in the dark again if nobody had intervened.

But Redondo Beach was two blocks from Clarke's house. She could see the water from her balcony out back, and Lexa's lithe body fit perfectly on her sofa.

* * *

The commercial property was waterfront, right across the street from the beach, where access paths wound down a shrubby hill to the sand. It was much narrower than Jupiter Surf—nestled between a crab house and a record store—with a freshly painted, bright blue exterior.

Lexa swayed slightly on the sidewalk, having taken her antibiotics with breakfast, and observed the view. It was the perfect location. The waves were breaking smoothly and her toes were tapping and itching to get out there with her surfboard.

Clarke clung to her side to keep her upright and smiled at the realtor, a warm woman who'd introduced herself as Mercedes Jones.

"It's gorgeous." She remarked.

Lexa nodded absently and turned to look at Sepp's Crab House, the pink-fronted, bustling local eatery she'd—hypothetically—be sharing a wall with. She wondered if it ever smelled, if the seafood stench on hot days would drive people away.

Mercedes unlocked the front door and gestured for them to follow. "Y'all are gonna love this. It's even better on the inside."

Clarke squealed a bit at the wooden shark handle of the door before pulling Lexa through. It was airy and cool, with lower ceilings than Jupiter Surf, but with similar scuffed wood floors and pastel paint on one of the walls. Lexa was immediately struck by how bright the place was, despite the low ceilings. Knobbly, wooden columns divided the long room about halfway through.

"It smells like mothballs." She whispered to Clarke, nose scrunched up.

"I'm sure you can change the smell, baby."

In her antibiotic haze, Lexa was doubtful. She wandered after Clarke and listened to Mercedes describe the place.

"You share a brick wall with the crab house and a wood paneled one with the music store." Mercedes pointed to the ceiling. "There's new track lighting all the way through and renovated plumbing in the back, but everything else is from the original 1956 build."

"Wow." Clarke breathed.

Lexa could only imagine how much this space would cost.

"You said it, girl." Mercedes laughed. She gestured to a narrow, wooden staircase that blended in to the wall paneling. "And I don't know if you realized it when you came in, but that was a loft room over your heads. It looks over the rest of the space."

Clarke hummed appreciatively. Lexa's mind jumped straight to the possibilities—a board room, an office, a lounge. She was fascinated by the hideaway staircase.

They followed Mercedes through a door into the back room, which was half the size of Jupiter Surf's lounge and in need of a fridge. There were restrooms and a large stock closet, but no winding, sandy hallway or shaping room.

"You could fit a couch in here." Clarke mused, squeezing Lexa's hand. "And we can easily obtain a fridge."

Lexa smiled. "You know people?"

"I know people. I can get a good one."

Mercedes flipped on the overhead fan and nodded at the back door—the same new bright blue as the front of the shop. "You have a killer brick patio area out there. The last people didn't use it much, so it's overrun with vines, but landscaping shouldn't be too difficult.

Clarke eyed Lexa, lips quirked mischievously. "Is there an outdoor shower?"

"They added one when they redid the plumbing." Mercedes nodded, smiling. "I'm not saying they got carried away, but it's nicer than my shower at home."

Clarke eagerly herded Lexa across the room and through the blue door. Lexa's breath caught the moment she stepped outside. The shower was off to the right—enclosed by brick, free of sand—but the unbridled plant life was what held her attention. A twisted, unruly shrub of pink-tinged morning glories lined the low wall between the shop and the crab house. Webs of vines wrapped around the shower and the back wall of the shop, sprouted up from the stone patio, and climbed the fences.

Lexa was taken with it, Clarke could tell. Her mouth hung open slightly. Her sharp eyes took everything in.

"It's a hot mess, but it wouldn't take long to clean up." Mercedes reminded.

Clarke smiled softly. "I think we'd leave it, actually."

It was a pipe dream, a passing fancy, a fantasy. Lexa would never be able to afford the space—she'd looked at it mostly out of obligation and curiosity, and because Clarke was at her side pointing out every positive she could find in her un-subtle way of telling Lexa she'd like her to stay.

Lexa was hit with an abrupt longing for this place on the beach, a five-minute, downhill walk from Clarke's house. She could picture them fooling around in the shower, in the loft, jogging out the front door at the end of the day to surf and then climbing the hill back home with bare, sandy feet and falling into bed.

She'd call it Jupiter Surf, of course. Another world in Redondo.

"It's an incredible place." Clarke murmured, observing her girlfriend. She could see her talking herself out of it, dropping back to reality.

Lexa nodded wordlessly. She plucked a purple flower from a sweetpea plant and tucked it fondly behind Clarke's ear. It was too bad the shop would never be hers.

* * *

"Give me one good reason." Clarke demanded.

Lexa stared up at her, eyebrow lifted. They were sharing a large lounge chair on Clarke's balcony, which Lexa had quickly decided was her favorite part of Clarke's house. There was a wrought iron spiral staircase that extended up to the roof—where Clarke never went because she was afraid she'd tip right over the edge—and down to the backyard patio.

Lexa already adored the middle balcony because it was feet from Clarke's bed—with soft pillows and sheets that smelled like her girlfriend and everything she'd been missing—and she could see the ocean. Clarke had left the French doors of her bedroom open the night before and it was like sleeping on the beach.

Now, Clarke was lying half on top of her, careful to avoid the welts on Lexa's side, eyeing her seriously.

Lexa sighed. "I have a shop in Jupiter, Clarke. I can't just leave it."

"But you can." Clarke insisted. She tucked her fingers under the elastic waist of Lexa's shorts and rubbed lightly. "You have your mom and Roan there now. Your friends aren't as incompetent as you like to think, baby. And you can hire new people here."

Lexa gazed up at her silently.

"Give me another reason." Clarke requested.

Lexa smiled. She tickled her fingers up Clarke's back, under her thin cotton tank top. "Why? So you can refute everything I say?"

"With perfectly logical arguments, yes."

Lexa lolled her head thoughtfully. "I just reconnected with my mom again." She said quietly. "I don't want to mess that up by moving three thousand miles away."

Clarke hummed, still rubbing under the waistband of Lexa's shorts.

"That's really distracting." Lexa smiled wryly.

Clarke refused to stop. "Your mom would understand. She bought part of your ticket, right?"

Lexa nodded shortly.

"She wants you to be happy. She can visit for months at a time." Clarke threw up a hand. "Hell, she can live in that loft if you like, Lexa. I promise you it won't be like before."

Lexa mumbled, "I'll miss her."

Clarke kissed the side of her head. "I'll move Katherine into my house. We can all be roommates. Give me another reason."

Lexa heaved an exaggerated sigh. "You are exhausting, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke snapped her fingers, brow raised.

"How do you expect me to pay for that place?" Lexa asked, amused. She wondered how Clarke would talk her way out of this one. "Magic beans?"

Clarke's eyes widened. "Do you have magic beans?" she whispered in Lexa's ear.

Lexa rolled her eyes.

"You know, I'm doing pretty well right now." Clarke said seriously, holding Lexa's gaze. "Financially, at least."

Lexa snorted lightly. She could definitely tell Clarke was doing well financially. The three balconies overlooking the ocean and spiral backyard staircase clued her in.

"I would love to invest in a fledgling local business."

"I can't take your money, Clarke." Lexa shook her head.

"It's an investment, Lexa." Clarke emphasized. She pulled her hand out of Lexa's pants for a moment and chuckled at her girlfriend's pout. "You'll pay me back with interest. I know your business. I worked there for three months and I organized your books. I know you'll be successful here and I want to help."

"That's a lot of confidence you have, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke smiled proudly and snuck her hand back into Lexa's shorts. "Do you have any more reasons not to lease that space?"

Lexa slowly shook her head. There was one more, but she couldn't put it into words. It was a feeling, really—the safety she felt in Florida, the friends who saved her and built her back up, taught her to walk again, remembered things when she couldn't.

Clarke dragged gentle fingers over the web of marks under Lexa's t-shirt. "I love you, you know."

Lexa's lips quirked. "I love you too."

"You were running away when you moved to Florida." Clarke continued. "From something really terrible, and you needed to rebuild. You're so strong, Lexa. Maybe you can run towards something now. Whatever you want."

Lexa remained silent, eyes on the ocean. She could surf both coasts. She'd be loved on both coasts. She'd shattered her circle to bits long ago and felt like she was jumping off bridges every day.

Clarke's breath hitched. She brushed the blonde hair out of Lexa's eyes. "Even if it's not with me. Just…whatever would make you happiest. I worry about you."

"You make me happy." Lexa threw out like it was obvious. She eyed Clarke sadly and added, "But there are no boiled peanuts here."

Clarke laughed against her girlfriend's neck. "We'll make you some."

Lexa stretched her arms over her head and arched up into Clarke. Her hands landed lightly on Clarke's butt when they came back down, tickling the hem of her shorts. She could feel Clarke smile, her warm breath.

"But not right now." Lexa said, grinning widely.

Clarke tilted up to kiss her. She pulled her hand out of Lexa's pants and tugged on the elastic. "Not right now."


	17. Chapter 17

Clarke buried her feet in the hot sand and cracked an eye open against the sun, not wide enough for Lexa to notice. Sprawled on the beach this lazy, quiet Monday, she'd been pondering things—mostly head injuries. She wondered about memory and accuracy of recollection, flightiness and forgetfulness, gaps in the mind.

She watched Lexa's mouth move silently. If she was actually speaking, it wasn't loud enough for Clarke to hear over the waves.

Clarke's lips tipped up.

Lexa was eyeing the outside break. It was only chest high, but the sets were marginally better than the sloppy shit storm of inside whitewater. She predicted that the swells would pick up later with the wind, maybe smooth out and give her something to catch.

"Hey." Clarke said softly, propping her head up with Lexa's sopping wet, bunched up towel.

Lexa glanced down, smiled warmly at her.

"What did you have for breakfast this morning?" Clarke tested.

Lexa blinked at her for a moment and laughed. "Why?"

"Do you remember?"

"Pancakes." Lexa lifted a brow, checking if her response was alright.

Clarke hummed and nodded. She tapped a finger thoughtfully against her cheek and asked, "How many playing cards are in a deck?"

"Am I being filmed?"

Clarke snorted. "No, you're not on a gameshow, idiot."

Lexa tipped forward, amused. She kissed Clarke's sandy head and drawled, "What do I get if I win?"

She was so close, watching intently. Clarke brushed the wet brown hair out of her smiling eyes. "Not much." She shrugged. "I'm testing you."

Lexa's stare didn't falter.

"So how many playing cards are there in a deck?" Clarke repeated, genuinely curious about whether or not Lexa knew the answer.

Lexa sighed and sat back on her palms, observing the waves. "Fifty-two cards, four suits, twelve face cards in a French deck."

"Show off."

"Just clever." Lexa side-eyed her, smiling wryly.

Clarke considered her options. She'd noted Lexa's resentment for shoelaces and wheels, the way she'd slip a shoe on the wrong foot, button things incorrectly, constantly jam her toes and hip into doors and tables, mostly due to double vision. The white shirt Lexa had slipped on after swimming out to the outer break was actually on inside out.

A thought occurred to Clarke and she tilted her head curiously.

"Touch your elbow." She requested.

Lexa rolled her eyes indulgently. She lifted her hand and touched her shoulder.

Clarke remained quiet, triumphant, waiting to see if Lexa would correct herself. She gently reminded her, "Elbow, baby."

Lexa's hand didn't move. She looked at Clarke, eyebrow raised. "Yeah? Now what?"

Clarke licked her lips, smiling affectionately. "Lexa."

"Head on straight, Clarke Griffin?"

"That's your shoulder, honey."

Lexa's exasperated grin faded. She looked down at her arm and frowned, confused. It was word association, Clarke decided, mixed with spatial awareness. All of it was just a little bit scrambled.

Lexa cut her eyes up and Clarke smiled sweetly at her, took her hand. "It's okay, baby."

Lexa pursed her lips.

"You didn't pass my test, but that's okay because I was cheating." Clarke tugged on Lexa's arm. "Okay?"

Lexa's ears burned red. It was annoying sometimes—and embarrassing—the games her head would play. Clarke pulled on her arm again and Lexa shrugged her away, staring grumpily at the outer break.

Clarke sat up fully. "Lexa."

"Mm."

Clarke worried her fingers and set a hesitant hand on her girlfriend's knee. "I'm sorry, baby. Are you—I didn't mean to…"

She trailed off, unsure, and shuffled forward to see Lexa's face. "I didn't mean to make you feel bad."

Lexa reached out and pulled Clarke's foot towards her, brushing at her sandy toes. She kept her gaze on the waves and Clarke relaxed.

"I'm gonna try the outer break." Lexa said abruptly, after finishing with both feet. She stood and peeled off her t-shirt, balled it up and dropped it in Clarke's lap, and then stooped and kissed the corner of Clarke's mouth before Clarke could say anything.

She picked up her board and walked backwards for a few feet, smiling. "Don't run away, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke shrugged and tipped back in the sand, using Lexa's t-shirt as a pillow. "No promises."

Lexa shook her head as she strode away, laughing. Clarke watched her go, eyed the fading welt that stretched around to her back and the old scars it crossed. She waited until Lexa paddled out and became a bobbing brunette head in the distance, and then she rolled over to go back to sleep. Her phone vibrated underneath her makeshift pillow and Clarke groaned and wiggled it out.

Her brows lifted when she saw who it was and she rolled clumsily onto her back.

"Hi, Katherine!"

"Hello, Clarke dear. How are you doing?"

Clarke opened her eyes, blinded herself with the sun, and dropped Lexa's t-shirt over her face. It smelled like surf wax and maple syrup from breakfast.

"I'm doing so well, thank you, Katherine." Clarke gushed. "I love having Lexa here."

Katherine chuckled lightly. "Of course you do, honey."

"Did you want to speak to her? She's in the water right now, but I can get—"

"No, no. I wanted to talk to you, actually."

Clarke lifted the t-shirt and checked that Lexa was still paddling about in the water. She was actually riding a wave, looking unamused with the speed of it, and Clarke smiled when she shook her head and bailed in frustration.

"Okay, go ahead." Clarke encouraged.

"It's about Lexa's father."

The serene expression on Clarke's face slipped. Her lips drew into a thin line and she pressed the cool t-shirt against her eyes. She warily wondered, "What about him?"

Katherine seemed just as reluctant to speak about this topic.

"He sent Lexa a letter." Katherine said carefully. "He told me it was an apology of sorts, and that he'd written down a few things he'd been wanting to say for a while. It's—I didn't…proofread it or anything, but I forwarded it to your address, and I thought Lexa could read it if she wants, or if she'd rather tear it up, she can do that too."

Clarke listened wordlessly.

"And you'll be there for her, if she does read it." Katherine added. "Or even if she doesn't."

"Of course." Clarke murmured.

"Okay, listen honey, I have to go." Katherine said regretfully. Clarke could hear clanging in the background, Bellamy and Raven shouting. "We're organizing a dive. Tell Lexa we love her and her shop is perfectly fine and not to worry—"

She was interrupted by a "Good Lord, it's going to sink!" and Clarke had to laugh.

Katherine finished loudly with, "And we love you too, Clarke."

Clarke said her goodbyes and hung up, wondered what exactly was waiting in her mailbox. She shut her eyes again, basked in the sun, and was startled from sleep when Lexa shook out her hair so that cold water rained down on Clarke's stomach.

"Look, babe," Lexa laughed when Clarke threw the balled up t-shirt at her. She touched her toes and smiled widely at her girlfriend.

She loudly whispered, "I'm touching my knees."

* * *

Clarke twisted the envelope around in her hands. It was plain white, postmarked from Kansas City and forwarded from Jupiter, with no distinguishing features other than the small, cursive "Lexa Woods" scrawled above the address. She wandered into the living room, where Lexa was lying lazily on the couch with a bundle of financial statements and package of Oreos on her stomach and reading glasses on her nose.

Clarke patted her head and sat on the arm of the couch, held up the letter so that Lexa could see it.

"This is from your dad." Clarke said cautiously.

Lexa stilled and Clarke brushed a hand over her forehead.

"He sent it to the shop and your mom forwarded it here. She said it's some sort of apology, maybe closure for him or for you."

Lexa stared at Clarke's hand, green eyes magnified by her glasses. Clarke chewed on her lip and dragged her fingers through Lexa's sandy hair.

"So…I'm going to leave it here." Clarke ventured, dropping the envelope onto the coffee table. "And if you want—"

"Throw it away."

Lexa's voice was rough, and she frowned at the sound and cleared her throat. "Just tear—rip it up. I don't want it."

Clarke hesitated.

"Lexa, you can read it or rip it up, but I'm not—"

Lexa sat up abruptly, eyes alight, mindless of the papers and Oreos cascading to the floor. She brushed everything away and climbed up and away from the couch as quickly as possible. She hooked her reading glasses through the collar of her shirt and stalked towards the kitchen.

Clarke watched her pause in the open space, breathing heavily and rubbing at her forehead.

"Maybe we'll just put it away for now, and you can come back to it later." Clarke offered.

Lexa laughed harshly, humorlessly.

She spun on the spot, smiling at the ridiculous notion that her father would ever apologize for anything, that he would ever try to make things right or recognize that he'd destroyed something, somebody, all those years ago. And that he'd choose to do it now.

It was an outlandish concept. Hilarious.

Clarke watched Lexa, concerned. "Baby…"

"Throw the goddamn thing away, Clarke." Lexa said sharply, wheezing.

Clarke approached slowly, careful not to box her in against the breakfast bar. "Lexa, honey," she put her hands on Lexa's arms and held her in place, "You can if you want to, but I'm not going to."

"I'm not touching it!" Lexa proclaimed ridiculously.

Clarke rubbed her arms soothingly.

Lexa could see it in her eyes, the plea to be reasonable. She tried to pull away, to swivel into the kitchen. "No, Clarke. No…no."

Clarke held fast. She knew she needed to keep Lexa from spinning away, to keep her contained, or she'd go shooting off into the ocean to surf until her lungs or her legs gave out. Clarke wouldn't be the one who let go of her. She refused.

Lexa wheezed shakily, eyes darting up to the ceiling.

"Breathe, baby." Clarke said softly.

"He left me alone in the hospital, Clarke. While I was paralyzed." Lexa said lowly. Her jaw was sharp and she fixed her cutting gaze on her girlfriend. Clarke remained patient, listening. If Lexa was speaking, she could breathe.

Lexa puffed ragged breaths out of her nose. "He walked away when I couldn't. He blamed me and left me and destroyed—just—everything." She sucked in a breath when tears began trailing down her cheeks.

Clarke's hands squeezed, warm and steady on her arms.

It was all new—Lexa speaking like this—with everything spewing out at once instead of being released in controlled increments like she preferred. Lexa tried valiantly to put a cap on it but knew she was failing spectacularly.

"He ruined me, Clarke!" she cried, glancing again at the envelope across the room.

Clarke shook her head, slid her hands up from Lexa's arms to her cheeks and wiped at her tears.

"No." she said firmly. Lexa gripped her wrists. "No, he didn't."

Lexa twisted her head out of Clarke's grasp and backed up against the breakfast bar. The counter jammed up against the web of welts on her back but she didn't seem to notice.

"His whole life is a megalomaniacal episode." Lexa growled, rubbing furiously at her own eyes. "He's a fucking asshole with a God complex, Clarke."

Clarke waited a moment, until Lexa was silent, trembling and wheezing and stacking up all of the blocks and walls and circles she'd accidentally broken down.

"Baby, you don't need to convince me of anything." Clarke said softly.

Lexa stared hard at the ground and brushed by her, stalking to the couch. She picked up the letter, ripped it in half once, and then again, and strode past Clarke to toss it in the kitchen trash can. If Clarke had looked away, even blinked, she would've missed the hesitation, the split second of longing on Lexa's face before letting the letter fall.

Clarke came up behind her and turned Lexa around. She moved easily this time, let herself be manipulated and buried her head against Clarke's neck.

Clarke tangled a hand in her hair, rubbed up and down her back and spoke softly against her ear. Even when Lexa stopped crying, she kept her face hidden, pressed into Clarke.

"Let's lie down, baby." Clarke suggested, guiding Lexa across the room to the stairs and up to her bedroom.

Lexa shook her head the whole way, mumbling about it being too early and trying to wipe away all evidence that she'd been crying, but she needed no convincing to climb into bed.

She stepped out of her shorts and let Clarke pull her t-shirt over her head, and then tripped and fell right into bed with a quiet groan. Clarke watched her fondly and followed, settling on her side and scratching lightly at the bare skin of Lexa's back, tracing her fingertips over the pale, twisting lines.

Lexa turned her head so that she could see Clarke's face. Her expression was far too doleful for Lexa's liking and she swore at herself for being the cause.

Lexa sighed and wiped her runny nose against whatever pillow she was using. "Clarke."

Clarke hummed attentively.

"Turn that frown upside down."

It was enough for Clarke to crack a smile, a reluctant chuckle, and Lexa felt alright closing her eyes after seeing it. Clarke stayed until Lexa's back rose and fell with deep, clear breaths, all wheeziness gone. And then she kissed her head and covered her with the blanket before heading back downstairs.

She picked up and repackaged the Oreos and bundled up all of Lexa's documents, setting them neatly on the coffee table. After deliberating for half a second, she plucked the scraps of the letter out of the trash can, unfolded it, and taped it back together as best she could without reading the words.

She put it in an unused kitchen drawer, went back upstairs, shrugged off all her clothes, and snuggled into bed behind her girlfriend.

* * *

When Lexa woke up, her head was pounding and Clarke was watching her with bright blue eyes, like she'd never slept.

"Oh God." Lexa grumbled and rolled away, buried her face into the pillow.

Clarke took one of her limp arms and ran her hands over it. She kissed the soft skin of Lexa's wrist and quietly asked, "How do you feel?"

"Have you been staring at me all night?"

Clarke was silent for a moment and Lexa let out a muffled chuckle.

"I got some sleep." Clarke offered vaguely. She stared at the back of her girlfriend's messy dark head and reached out to smooth her hair down. "How do you feel, baby?"

Lexa rolled over and stretched out with a groan. She licked her lips because her mouth was like cotton and stared up at Clarke for a minute.

"Like an idiot." She drawled, half-smiling.

Clarke frowned. "Why?"

Lexa blinked wordlessly. Her gaze flittered away as she said, "Sorry about last night."

"You have nothing to be sorry for."

Lexa looked doubtful. She'd been a wreck. More of a wreck than she'd been in a while. Clarke watched the cogs turning in her head, the pink, embarrassed flush to her cheeks, and she smiled softly and sifted her hand through Lexa's hair.

"Nothing at all." She repeated firmly.

Lexa closed her eyes and let Clarke soothe away her headache, mumbled, "God, that's annoying."

Clarke laughed. She kept dragging her hands through dark and messy hair. "I think you like it."

"No, it's terrible."

Clarke tipped forward and kissed her lips and Lexa fought a smile.

"Where's my breakfast, Clarke?" Lexa wondered, watching her.

Clarke slipped out of bed and playfully slapped Lexa's butt over the blanket, smiling. She said, "Get your pretty ass in the shower, baby. Miller and Harper invited themselves over for breakfast and we need to talk."

"Don't need a shower." Lexa grumbled.

"You smell like seaweed."

Lexa groaned and flopped hopelessly back into her pillow.

Clarke halted her movement towards the door and observed her. She sat back on the edge of the bed and tipped forward to be near Lexa's face.

"Do you really not feel well?" she asked quietly.

Lexa grunted.

Clarke kissed the back of her head. "I can ask them to leave. You can meet Miller another time."

Lexa reached a hand back and palmed Clarke's face, struggling to caress her cheek without putting too much effort into it. Clarke gripped her hand and held it still.

"I'll get up." Lexa mumbled, rolling slightly.

"Baby, you don't—"

"I want to see Harper." Lexa sat up fully and shook the hair out of her eyes. She winced at the pain. "And I want to meet Miller."

Clarke stared at her, skeptical. "Are you sure?"

"Yup."

She watched Lexa roll out of bed, stretch, down the entire bottle of water on the bedside table, and then shuffle towards the bathroom, dragging all of her clothes for the day behind her.

Clarke sighed, smiled, and brushed fruitlessly at the sand on Lexa's side of the sheets.

* * *

Everybody was seated at the breakfast bar when Lexa strode into the living room, a little more bright-eyed than before. She managed a smile and hugged Harper tightly, introduced herself to Miller—who exclaimed his excitement for finally meeting "The Lifeguard" Clarke had told him so much about. Lexa sat next to Harper at the breakfast bar and tipped back in her chair.

Clarke passed her by and gave her a soft smile, ruffled her clean, wet hair. She knew there was no point telling Lexa to keep all four legs on the ground, but she did it anyway.

"So, how are you?" Harper clasped her hands together, smiling at Lexa. "Do you like it here?"

"I'm spectacular." Lexa said drolly.

"Do you like Clarke's place?"

Lexa shrugged, caught her girlfriend's eye. "I like it because it's Clarke's."

Miller awwed and Lexa peered around Harper to look at him properly. He was in a Star Wars t-shirt and black pants, here "as a friend, not a manager," and he had the same sort of shriek-when-excited quality and vibrancy about him as Clarke.

He smiled at Lexa when he noticed he was being watched. "Clarke would not stop talking about you when she was in Florida."

Lexa smiled immediately, smugly, and sought out Clarke's gaze. Her girlfriend's narrowed eyes were directed at Miller.

"Just every night." Miller said. He rolled his eyes exasperatedly. "Blah, blah, blah."

Harper nodded sagely. "She'd get so carried away."

"Excuse me." Clarke said shortly, one hand on her hip and the other holding up her spatula.

"And Lexa, I need you to teach me how to surf." Miller continued, ignoring Clarke completely. He pushed Harper forward so that he could fully see Lexa. "I told this guy at the gym I'm a semi-pro surfer and now he wants to go to the beach with me."

Lexa hummed. "Good idea at the time, huh."

"Are you staying, Lexa?" Harper wondered, sitting back in her seat. "I know you guys looked at that place by the water."

Clarke's ears perked up. She slid plates of pancakes in front of Harper and Miller, added extra whipped cream to Lexa's and placed that in front of her girlfriend. Lexa squeezed her hand in thanks before Clarke could take it away.

"No decisions yet." Lexa said with a shrug.

Clarke sat next to her with her own plate of pancakes. She squeezed Lexa's thigh and asked against her ear, "Are you good, baby?"

Lexa nodded, mouth full.

Clarke waited until she'd swallowed and then gripped her chin and kissed her lips. Lexa smiled into it, rolled her eyes good naturedly—she'd forgotten Clarke's mandatory good morning kiss. She took another bite of her pancakes when Clarke pulled back, made sure to smear cream and syrup sloppily over her lips, and then swooped back in for another kiss.

Clarke made a small noise of surprise, but opened her mouth and then laughed at the stickiness of Lexa's face. She slid her lips over Lexa's, nipped at the cream and syrup until it was all gone.

"Slob." Clarke laughed, pushing Lexa back.

Lexa smiled widely. She turned back to her own food and found Harper and Miller smiling at them, charmed and repulsed. She felt her cheeks warm, and she wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand and focused on her plate while Harper chuckled.

* * *

Clarke made sure Harper and Miller made it out of her driveway gate and then returned to the kitchen, pondering what they should do for the rest of the day. Obviously, decisions needed to be made, somewhere in the gaps between rehearsals for Anything Goes and surf sessions and sleep.

Clarke rounded the corner for the kitchen and stopped on her toes.

Lexa had one hand in the trash can, the other holding up a plate of half-eaten, mushy, syrup-soaked pancakes, which would undoubtedly wreck any sort of paper in the bin. Clarke's lips pulled up and she cleared her throat.

Lexa straightened immediately and spun around, ran a hand casually through her hair.

"It's not in there, honey." Clarke said softly.

Lexa scoffed a bit, dumped the pancakes into the trash and moved to the sink. "What?"

Clarke almost rolled her eyes. "I know what you're looking for. You don't have to pretend."

"I don't know what you're talking about, Clarke." Lexa drawled. It wasn't a lazy, joking throwback as usual. The quiver in her voice gave her away.

Clarke pulled open the drawer where she'd stashed the letter and held it up. Lexa's eyes widened slightly.

"I didn't want you to regret anything." Clarke said simply. She caught the wary, questioning look in Lexa's eyes and shook her head. "You know I didn't read it, baby."

"You should've left it in there."

Clarke refused to get into it. She touched Lexa's stoic face and kissed her, handed her the letter.

"You can throw it away or read it. I'll finish cleaning up."

Lexa swallowed, ducked her head, and walked out of the kitchen towards the stairs with the letter crumpled tightly in her hand.

Clarke did the dishes, reviewed her calendar, checked her DVR recordings, and texted Bellamy a picture she'd taken of a brunette toddler—a miniature Bellamy, with a wide smile and floppy hair—on a surfboard, captioned, **"Something you're not telling us, Boris?"**

When Clarke found Lexa half an hour later, she was on the bedroom balcony with her bare feet propped on the railing, staring at the sea from behind her sunglasses. Clarke approached cautiously, but Lexa held out a hand without even looking in her direction and Clarke took it and moved to sit in the deck chair next to her.

Lexa shook her head and pulled Clarke onto her lap instead.

"Head on straight?" Clarke wondered quietly, eyeing the unfolded letter sitting on the table. She played with the soft wisps of hair at the nape of Lexa's neck.

Lexa's lips twitched. She hummed and brushed her nose against Clarke's ear.

"Do you want to talk about what it said?" Clarke asked.

She searched Lexa's face, plucked the sunglasses from her nose and put them on her own head. Lexa's slightly reddened eyes were the only sign she'd been crying while Clarke was downstairs. She tipped her forehead against Clarke's shoulder, squeezed her, and Clarke recognized all of the affection for what it was—Lexa's way of saying, "Thank you. I love you."

"He apologized." Lexa murmured.

Clarke put her hand over the fingers splayed over her waist. "Yeah?"

"He took a page of…dredging things up to do it, but yeah. He said he was wrong. About everything."

Clarke listened quietly.

"He said he's changed." Lexa shrugged, rubbed at her nose. She gave a short laugh. "He's starting over in Kansas, of all places."

Lexa met Clarke's gaze and held it for a moment. It was a chilly morning, but Clarke was warm and the sun was bright in her eyes and Lexa mused on her luck.

Clarke smiled, confused. "What."

Lexa shook her head. "Just…my—he said the person I love is lucky to have me. Whoever it is."

It was the only line Lexa had memorized, the one that eased the eight years of tension walled-up and barricaded and blockaded inside her chest. Clarke tucked blonde hair behind her ear, traced the shell of it with her fingertip, smiling sweetly.

"Well, yeah. Of course." She said.

Lexa grinned and squeezed her. "Yeah? You feelin' lucky?"

Clarke snorted lightly, nodded. "Yes, goofy. Are you?"

"Mm, no. Not at all." Lexa pulled a face.

"You're lying."

"Remind me how lucky you feel. I have memory problems."

Clarke chuckled, shifted so that she was facing forward. She propped her feet up next to Lexa's and leaned back into her girlfriend.

"Do you forgive him?" She queried after a minute of Lexa tying knots in her hair.

"No." Lexa said firmly, and followed it up with a markedly less sure, "Not yet."

Clarke laced their fingers together, nearly had a heart attack when Lexa tilted back in the chair to scare her. She tapped Lexa's feet with her own.

"I'll tell you every day how lucky I feel, I if I have to." She declared, mostly to herself.

She felt Lexa smile against her head.

"Lucky me."

* * *

Clarke rolled over in the night and knocked Lexa in the face with a rogue arm.

Lexa jerked at the shock of it, despite having been wide awake, and nudged Clarke back the other way with an amused, "Careful, baby."

Clarke rolled right back to her—a boomerang—and Lexa sat up and let Clarke cuddle up to her side. She ran her hand through dark hair and stared out the balcony door she'd opened, which probably hadn't been such a great idea because she was starting to freeze. She began maneuvering out from under her girlfriend to shut the damn thing when Clarke's grip tightened.

Lexa flipped on the bedside light and met groggy eyes blinking up at her.

Clarke struggled with the hair in her face before mumbling, "Please don't go surfing right now."

Lexa cupped her cheek, kissed her forehead. "I'm not, baby. Go back to sleep."

"Cold." Clarke protested, latching on when Lexa tried to slide off the bed again.

Lexa rolled her eyes, smiling. She slithered out of Clarke's grasp, shut the balcony door, and climbed back into bed before Clarke realized what had happened. Clarke burrowed into her and pressed her warm feet against Lexa's calves.

"You 'kay?" Clarke mumbled, blinking again.

Lexa hummed.

Clarke's gaze stayed on her, wavering with sleep, and Lexa smiled reassuringly at her. She wondered if her girlfriend was lucid.

"Hey there." She tested.

Clarke smiled crookedly, murmured, "Hey."

"I want this every night, you know." Lexa said, figuring she could just repeat everything in the morning if Clarke was actually half-asleep. "I don't sleep without you."

Clarke urged her brain to catch up because Lexa seemed to be saying important things.

Lexa smiled. "Literally. My lungs don't work. My head doesn't work."

Clarke laughed into her pillow. She tapped Lexa's jaw, and then her temple, doing her best not to poke her in the eye. "It works."

"It doesn't." Lexa shook her head.

Clarke hugged one of Lexa's arms to her, pressed it right up against her cleavage, and Lexa smiled.

"I'm telling you I want this every night, Clarke." Lexa said, waiting for her girlfriend to grasp the concept. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm not going back."

Clarke's sleepy smile faded as realization dawned. She tried to prop herself up but she was too tired and heavy. She'd have to have a word with Lexa about delivering major news in the dead of night.

"You're staying here with me?" she checked in a small, hopeful voice, clinging to Lexa's arm.

Lexa grinned and nodded.

Clarke's chest moved rapidly in short, excited bursts. "You—because you want to, right? Not because of what I've—"

Lexa tipped forward and spoke lowly, inches from Clarke's face. "For the third time, I want this every night, Clarke." She frowned curiously and tapped Clarke's head. "How's your memory?"

Clarke laughed, and it was watery and tired and probably half-asleep.

"And there are some other factors." Lexa shrugged, holding Clarke's gaze. "But it's mostly you, sleepyhead."

Clarke put both of her hands on Lexa's cheeks, not quite conscious enough to process it all properly. She managed a strangled, "Really?"

"You're a lucky fella, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke buried her face against Lexa's neck. She smelled saltwater, faint fruity shampoo and Sticky Bumps board wax. There was no way she was dreaming.

"Lexa."

Clarke sounded so disoriented. Lexa smiled and kissed her head. "Yes, babe?"

She almost thought Clarke had fallen asleep, she took so long to answer, but a faint, genuine, "I love you," met her ears, and Lexa couldn't wait to break this news again in the morning.


	18. Chapter 18

Venice Beach was crowded, constantly, and Clarke tended to avoid it, but she'd been touring Lexa around Los Angeles and the area beaches all day and it was a mandatory stop.

"We'll get tattoos and play some street ball," she'd joked, carefully winding her car through the congested, narrow streets. It was about mid-morning when Clarke had realized that shuttling Lexa around in a car all day—especially with Los Angeles traffic—was a bad idea.

Her girlfriend sat stiffly next to her, staring out the window with her hands jammed in her pockets.

Clarke bobbed her head, glancing over, "Maybe do some bodybuilding too."

Lexa snorted despite herself. She cracked a smile and stared at Clarke's profile. "Yeah? A little weightlifting? A few bench presses?"

"And deadlifts." Clarke nodded seriously.

"Do you know what a deadlift is?"

Clarke was silent, her expression even and unchanged as she guided them into a parking spot. Without looking at Lexa, she said, "I do."

Lexa's laugh was loud this time and it made Clarke smile. They climbed out of the car and Lexa met Clarke on the sidewalk, tapped the brim of her baseball cap.

"You're lying, Clarke Griffin."

"I can't lie to you." Clarke denied, looping her arm through Lexa's.

"You can't look at me."

Clarke looked down at their feet, at her own flip-flops and bright purple nails and Lexa's faded canvas slip-ons with a hole in the heel.

"Because it's like you know everything. You can see everything."

Lexa grinned smugly. "I do know everything."

Clarke rolled her eyes and refrained from making a comment about head injuries. She took Lexa down the boardwalk, basking in the sun and the sound of the waves and Lexa's hand squeezing hers, sarcastic remarks whispered in her ear.

"I can do that." Lexa pointed at a unicyclist as he rolled by, juggling three bowling pins.

Clarke hummed. "Yes, let's find more ways for you to hurt yourself."

Lexa seemed impressed with the variegated walls and murals and eccentric shops and people, but her focus was mainly on the water and she dragged Clarke over to the first squat, blue lifeguard tower she found. She dropped her sunglasses into the collar of her shirt, but they missed their mark and fell all the way to the sand. She was oblivious, so Clarke chuckled and picked them up and put them on top of her own head, and then waited patiently while her girlfriend engaged the lifeguard in conversation.

"It looks pretty sluggish," Lexa was saying, staring up at the lifeguard. He was leaning over the edge of his tiny tower, listening intently. "Does it pick up when the tide backs down? How big does it get?"

"Oh, definitely." He nodded quickly and ran a hand through his dark, curly hair, making sure to inadvertently flex his arms.

Clarke narrowed her eyes and stuck a finger through Lexa's belt loop.

"It's pretty dumpy right now, but low tide brings the size." He cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over his bare chest. "It's waist to head high on the best day. Nothing over eight feet, really."

Lexa nodded, blind to his preening. "And how warm? Is it always full suit weather?"

He shrugged and lifted himself up on the wooden railing like he was thinking hard, ready to swing around on a pommel horse. Clarke scoffed quietly and tucked all of her fingers into the waistband of Lexa's jeans.

"Shorts can fly in the summer." He shrugged and smiled, and Clarke mocked his thick eyebrows in her mind. "You can even wear 'em now if you're a maniac."

She is, Clarke thought. He was just giving Lexa ideas.

Lexa reached her hand up and said, "I'm Lexa. I'm opening a shop in Redondo and I could always use some input from longtime locals."

The lifeguard squeezed her hand, nearly tipping out of his miniature tower. "Blaine," he said, smiling widely.

Clarke scowled while Lexa handed him her business cards and contact information. Lexa turned to go, but then wrapped an arm around Clarke's waist and kissed her firmly on the mouth. She pulled back and straightened Clarke's cap, plucked her own sunglasses off the top and told Blaine, "And this is my girlfriend, Clarke."

Blaine smiled, only mildly disappointed, and waved as they walked away.

"You're so business savvy." Clarke said when they were back on the paved path, and it was kind of ridiculous because she'd seen Lexa's books and records and they looked like they were kept by a forgetful five-year-old.

Lexa was definitely a hands-on person, Clarke had realized.

"I need someone who knows the surf." Lexa shrugged. "The seasonal temperature, the breaks, the local culture."

"I know. I'm just saying…" Clarke pressed up against Lexa's side as they walked and whispered, "I like it."

Lexa smiled slowly. Her girlfriend was hugging and pawing at her arm.

"It's hot." Clarke continued shamelessly. "It's hot when you're all confident and in charge like that."

Lexa nodded in mock agreement. "I am hot."

Clarke dug her fingers into Lexa's ribs, but it was more ticklish than anything.

"Except when you're an arrogant ass."

"No, I'm an inconsiderate bitch, remember?" Lexa corrected sagely.

Clarke looked at her—at the way her lips quirked up and her shaggy hair curled into her bright eyes, the slight limp that was only noticeable because Clarke knew it was there, the way she let Clarke have her whole arm to hug to her chest while watching for rogue bicyclists with sharp eyes.

"You're not." Clarke shook her head.

Lexa smiled at her, then half-lidded her eyes and leaned closer as they approached the car.

"If you get me home in one piece, I'll show you how confident and in charge I can be."

Clarke pushed her away, laughing, and then pulled her back and kissed her on the mouth.

"Deal."

* * *

Clarke adjusted her laptop on the coffee table and waited for Skype to open. She'd fixed her hair—or at least tamed it, because Lexa had wrecked it so brilliantly—and put her clothes back on, but her girlfriend was probably still passed out in bed, or rolling around with the sweet potato fries they'd picked up on the way home

Clarke checked behind her, made sure there was no underwear draped over any furniture and checked that she was sitting in a flattering light.

Lexa came trudging down the stairs then, in Clarke's NYU hoody and bright red boyshorts and mismatched socks, hugging the carton of sweet potato fries to her chest, and Clarke snorted lightly. Lexa caught sight of her and her eyes lit up, and she hurried and dropped onto the couch next to Clarke.

Clarke reached up immediately to flatten her hair. "No pants, goofy?"

Lexa shrugged. "I just won't stand up."

Skype began its little melodious ringtone, and Clarke gave up on her girlfriend's hair and sat forward to answer the call. She grinned at the faces that appeared on screen.

They vanished quickly, and Bellamy's eye and part of his nose took up the whole screen. He and Lincoln seemed to be on the floor of the lounge while Judy and Raven were on the couch behind them.

"Hey, it's alive," Raven drawled.

Lexa frowned at the screen—at the giant, blurred eyeball—and said, "Back up, Boris. Settle down."

"Sorry, dude," he apologized, and four faces came back into focus.

Raven leaned forward with a hand on Bellamy's head and said, "Hey, Clarke, what's that thing sitting next to you?"

She seemed to realize she was sitting next to Lexa's mom, though, and she sat back and laughed loudly like she'd made a hilarious joke. Lexa glanced at Raven and mumbled, "Who's Clarke?" with her mouth full, and Clarke tipped over and kissed her cheek.

Lincoln "awwed," and Clarke took the time to greet everybody properly.

"I have something to tell you guys," Lexa said, sitting forward and wiping her mouth with the napkin Clarke handed her.

"You're pregnant," Bellamy moaned immediately and dropped his head into his hands.

Lincoln shoved him so he vanished from the screen for half a second, but he reappeared and sat up straight, listening intently like a schoolboy. Raven put her hands on his head to tie knots in his hair.

"What is it, honey?" Judy asked warmly.

Lexa glanced at Clarke and said, "I'm staying here to open a shop in Redondo."

Clarke noted that everybody's first reaction was to smile. Raven's was smug, nodding like she'd facilitated the whole thing and known it would be successful all along.

"I can't call you a wanderer anymore, Lex." Lincoln remarked, grinning at her.

Bellamy scoffed. "She's a vagabond at heart."

"Shut it, Boris," Clarke said, and Lexa smiled proudly at her.

Bellamy frowned and slumped back against Raven's leg, and she pulled a face and kneed him in the back.

"What will you need from us, Lexa?" Judy asked over his whining.

Lexa chewed thoughtfully on her bottom lip. She tapped her hands over her bare thighs and mused, "It's not quite a shot in the dark, because I've done it once before…" She glanced at Clarke. "But it could still all fall through and fail brilliantly."

Clarke shook her head shortly, smile on her lips.

"So just…don't run my first shop out of business, please." Lexa requested with a slight laugh. She looked at Bellamy, who was pouting at the edge of the shot and trying to undo the knots in his hair.

"And I'd like Bellamy to come out here." Lexa said, and he visibly brightened and sat up straight. "You guys have Finn now, and we're heading into winter so you'll be fine without Bellamy for a while. I'll need his help with the boards and inventory."

"Do I get to stay with you guys?" Bellamy asked with an excited grin.

Lexa looked at Clarke who was nodding like it was obvious.

"He'll eat all our food." Lexa whispered loudly, leaning into Clarke. Clarke smiled at her and hugged on her head, kissed the top of her dark hair until Lexa squirmed away.

Judy watched them fondly while Bellamy protested, "No, I can be good!"

"Give us a tour of your mansion, Griffin," Raven requested, bored of the conversation.

Clarke rolled her eyes. "It's not a mansion, Raven."

"Your hovel, then."

"Another time." Lexa said, glancing down at her bare legs.

"I wanna see it too." Bellamy said. "Show me my room."

"Lexa has no pants on," Clarke stated bluntly, and Lexa stared at her while her cheeks went pink.

Judy's face went a bit red as well, but Bellamy grinned and said, "So? It's nothing we haven't all seen before."

Lexa cut her gaze to his. "Hanging up now," she said sharply, with a hand on top of the laptop. "Love you, mom. Love you, Lincoln. Everybody else, feed Mars and fuck off."

Clarke waved quickly and tried to smile at everyone as Lexa shut the laptop.

She sighed and stared at her girlfriend when it was closed, but Lexa tipped sideways along the couch and watched Clarke with doleful green eyes. Clarke snorted lightly and climbed over her, settling her weight against Lexa's body.

"Stop trying to look pitiful," she said, kissing Lexa's face.

Lexa grinned and tipped her head back to give Clarke space.

"I've made you soft." Clarke remarked.

Lexa scoffed. "I'm not soft."

"You've always been soft." Clarke smiled. She patted Lexa's stomach and poked it with her finger. "Right here. This is soft."

"Sweet potato fries." Lexa hummed, watching her.

Clarke reached a hand down and squeezed Lexa's bare thigh, then slid up to her ass. "This is really soft. I like this."

"I know you do." Lexa's eyes sparkled.

Clarke shifted and fidgeted to slide her hands up under Lexa's sweatshirt. She poked Lexa's breasts and then cupped them solidly and squeezed.

"These are the softest, though," she said. "They might be my favorites."

Lexa laughed, and it was a deep belly laugh and it shook Clarke up and down. She sat up just enough to drag her sweatshirt off, and it got stuck on her head until Clarke yanked it away and snorted with laughter at the sight of her dark hair.

Lexa sighed and held her close, let her pat it down. "Only for you, Clarke."

* * *

Harper rolled up outside the rehearsal studio, put the car in park, and looked expectantly at Lexa. There was nothing outstanding about the place and its solid beige walls, scattered palm trees and pink flowers, but they'd wound through the depths of Hollywood to get there and spent twenty minutes locked in traffic on Santa Monica Boulevard.

Lexa bounced her leg uneasily. She felt decidedly out of place in this world of fancy cars and fancy hair and fancy attitudes.

"If you just go in and ask for Clarke they should take you right to her," Harper said.

Lexa glanced over and nodded. She ran a hand through her hair, made sure her sleeves were rolled up neatly and her sun-bleached shoes were at least tied.

Harper reached for her hand, watching her knowingly.

"I'm in Clarke's wheelhouse now, huh?" Lexa joked. "This is her kingdom."

Harper laughed. "You've heard her sing, Lexa. The world is her kingdom."

Lexa remembered a small brunette woman in hot pink flip-flops trudging along the beach, tripping over a surfboard and then getting stung by a man 'o war in the water. She decided that the ocean was not part of Clarke's kingdom yet. Her girlfriend was definitely a land creature.

She thanked Harper for the ride, squeezed her hand a final time, and forced herself out of the car and up to the studio. She propped her sunglasses on top of her head and discreetly checked her hair in the reflective glass door before stepping inside.

Couches seemed to fill the room, and there was a fridge in the corner and piles of peoples' belongings—shoes, bags, food, coats—scattered about. The room was empty of people though, and Lexa spun in a tiny circle and bypassed the abandoned reception desk, wondering briefly if she was allowed to do this or if she'd be tackled by a security guard at any moment.

She could hear raised voices, echoing instruction that sounded like blocking or choreography and squeaking shoes, and she passed a bathroom and came upon the open door to the studio.

Lexa smiled immediately because there was Clarke, in her yoga pants and bright pink tank top, standing with her hands on her hips. She had a light sheen of sweat on her face and her brow furrowed slightly in concentration as she listened to her instructions.

She was surrounded by people—back up dancers, Lexa assumed—and they assembled quickly as Clarke nodded and the tail end of "Blow, Gabriel, Blow" began to play.

Clarke moved fluidly, and her voice was vibrant and brilliant and Lexa watched with pride. It was an energetic number, full of vibrato and spirit, and Clarke was in her element, smiling the whole time. The director called for a break after the ending note and the group dispersed, and Lexa left the safety of her doorway to make her way over to Clarke.

She was stopped by a hand on her shoulder and a brusque, "Hey there."

It came from a tall, lanky guy with dark hair and eyes, and Lexa spun and lifted an eyebrow expectantly.

"Can I help you find something?" He offered, dragging his eyes from her hair to her shoes.

She shook her head shortly, lips pursed. "Nope."

"Well, what are you doing here?"

Lexa shrugged a shoulder. "Not much."

"Let me go ahead and show you to the exit, then." He requested sweetly.

Lexa rolled her eyes, stepped away, and threw, "I'm good, thanks," over her shoulder.

Everything turned pink then, and her nose was jammed into Starburst-scented, soft blonde hair as Clarke threw her arms around her neck and kissed her cheek excitedly. She dragged Lexa towards the wall, and Lexa stumbled backwards after her, smugly mouthing, "I'm with her," at the lanky guy who'd accosted her. Surprised, a little baffled, he watched them go.

Clarke spun and looped her arms around Lexa's neck. "I didn't think you'd actually come!" she said, tipping up to kiss Lexa properly.

Lexa glanced around, aware that they were being watched. She met a few eyes, and they were curious and happy and utterly exhausted, but not scandalized or judgmental, so she decided to follow Clarke's lead.

"Of course I came."

"Harper brought you, right? How was the ride? Was there much traffic?"

Lexa stared at Clarke, brow furrowed. "Who's Harper?"

"Shut it, baby." Clarke said, smiling, without missing a beat. She straightened Lexa's collar and her expression changed abruptly, looking over Lexa's shoulder.

Lexa turned her head. "What—"

"Greetings!" Finn proclaimed, smiling widely.

His hair satcurled messily around his neck, sweeping off to the side, and black-framed reading glasses were slotted into the collar of his shirt. Lexa quickly recognized the grandiose demeanor Clarke had described.

Clarke glanced nervously between the two. "Lexa, this is Finn Collins, producer and casting director of the film."

Lexa's gaze was steady, her head held high. Clarke watched a muscle jump in her jaw.

"Finn," Clarke continued, gesturing, "This is my girlfriend, Lexa Woods."

Finn smiled, unaffected by the sharp eyes boring into his. Clarke figured he'd had quite a bit of experience dealing with people who didn't like him. Lexa reached for Clarke's hand and tangled their fingers together.

"She's splendid. Absolutely gorgeous." Finn said, nodding at Clarke.

Clarke smiled in agreement and Lexa's ears turned pink while she tried to determine if he was serious or not.

Finn leaned towards Lexa and said, "Don't worry about Trevor." He gestured towards the lanky guy from earlier, now stretching against a wall. "He's the weak link in our backup dancers and he's getting fired in about five minutes."

Lexa's lips twitched and Clarke watched in confusion.

Finn grinned, proud of his power. "Clarke, your steps were flawless. Never change."

Now Clarke's cheeks reddened. She smiled down at her shoes and Lexa squeezed her hand and playfully knocked her own foot against Clarke's.

"Lexa, it's my understanding that you're expanding your surf shop." Finn ventured.

Lexa's smile dropped and Clarke refused to meet her eyes

"That's right," she nodded shortly.

"Have you thought about northern California?"

Lexa shrugged. "I can point to it on a map."

Clarke chuckled quietly.

"Because I have friends in the Bay Area." Finn informed, growing more boastful. "They own a restaurant. They surf. I'm just saying they could help, and they would definitely be interested. They're quite the voracious, entrepreneurial little go-getters."

"Friends in high places." Lexa surmised. She tipped her head and wondered, "Sonoma County?"

Finn grinned. "Exactly."

Lexa wondered about the northern California surf, the same way she thought about Hawaii and Australia and southern California, every place she'd never been. Clarke watched her, could tell she was interested, intrigued, but refused to say so to Finn.

Lexa schooled her face to look indifferent and Finn shrugged easily.

"In a year or so, when you're all set up here, I'll be around," he said.

He dipped his head before backing away. "It was a pleasure, Lexa. Until tomorrow, Miss Griffin."

Lexa watched him cross the room, tap Trevor on the shoulder, and walk with him out of the main studio. She laughed slightly, disbelieving, and Clarke looked at her.

"What?"

Lexa shook her head, almost confused. "Finn Collins…"

Clarke hummed. She knew exactly what Lexa was feeling, times ten. Her own experience had been complemented by a night of vodka tonics.

"You can't figure him out and he leaves you in a quandary." She said sagely.

Lexa looked at her. She faced Clarke fully, quickly kissed the corner of her mouth, and said, "You're my quandary, Miss Griffin."

"I perplex you?" Clarke lifted an eyebrow, playing with Lexa's collar again.

It wasn't Clarke, so much as their situation and Lexa's sketchy mind. But the surprising things Clarke would say, the abrupt swears and loud laughs, her eccentric interest in outdoor survival reality shows and the way she loved so fearlessly, it was all baffling.

Lexa smiled. "Constantly."

* * *

Lexa had forgotten just how stressful and exhausting opening a small business was. Maybe she'd blocked it out, and maybe she was altering the experience in her mind, but Florida law seemed far more accommodating and constructive than the city of Los Angeles, probably California as a whole.

She'd been up for several hours, plagued with anxiety and restlessness, as she searched the Secretary of State website and swore under her breath. When she noticed the sun coming up, she slammed the laptop closed with a full-volume, "Fuck," and lay back on the living room floor with an arm thrown over her eyes.

She stayed like that even when she heard careful footsteps crossing the room, muffled by fuzzy socks.

Clarke crouched next to her and rubbed a hand over Lexa's stomach. She leaned forward and kissed her forehead and whispered, "Come back to bed, sweetie."

Lexa moved her arm and stared silently up at Clarke. She was absently grinding her teeth and Clarke tapped her jaw to get her to stop. Lexa pushed her hand away.

Clarke lifted her eyebrows and sat back. "Would you rather stay here on the floor?"

Lexa nodded challengingly.

Her eyes were bloodshot and watery from lack of sleep and staring at the laptop screen, and Clarke sighed and settled cross-legged by her shoulder.

"Lexa, what's wrong?"

Lexa exhaled sharply and muttered, "California's income tax rate."

Clarke nearly laughed. She nodded slowly as Lexa sat up.

"Over half your investment will go to taxes, Clarke." Lexa barked a laugh. "Isn't that peachy?"

Clarke interrupted Lexa's, "Stupid fucking state," with "It has to be done, baby." She put a hand on Lexa's knee and assured, "You'll get the shop open and you'll get past the startup costs, and I'm always willing to invest more if necessary."

Lexa stood up and paced in a tiny circle.

"Let's take a break for now," Clarke suggested carefully, climbing to her feet.

Lexa shook her head. "There's way too much to do. Take me back to Florida."

It was an offhand comment said with a sardonic laugh, but it still twisted Clarke's gut and settled heavily in her heart. She swallowed and looked away from her girlfriend until Lexa appeared right in front of her, eyes blazing.

"You know I have to drive?" Lexa remarked, running a hand through her hair.

Clarke frowned, confused.

"I have to take steps towards California residency." Lexa used finger quotes, reciting what she'd learned. "Which includes getting a California driver's license."

"Oh, baby…" Clarke reached for Lexa's hand and was surprised when Lexa let her have it.

Lexa fumed silently, lips pressed into a line.

"I'll help you." Clarke said, trying to catch her eye. "I'll help you and everything will be fine."

Lexa only grew more fidgety. She puffed air out of her nose and seemed unaware that Clarke was holding her hand. Watching her, Clarke made a quick decision and told her, "I'll be right back, baby," before hurrying across the room and back up the stairs.

She changed into a bikini, sweats, and a t-shirt and grabbed the same for Lexa, and then met her girlfriend again in the living room and held up the clothes. Lexa eyed her evenly.

"We're going surfing," Clarke said, moving to pull Lexa's pajama shirt up over her head.

Something changed in Lexa's expression, and she fastened the bikini top and nearly smiled when Clarke yanked down her shorts to replace them with the bikini bottom. She put her own sweats on over them and followed her girlfriend into the garage, where they grabbed two wetsuits, Lexa's shortboard, and Clarke's rented foamie.

The walk was quiet and cold, and Lexa had goosebumps everywhere but was breathing more deeply already. In less than ten minutes they were zipped up and paddling out to the small morning break.

Lexa caught the first four waves she could, throwing her weight around on bottom turns and fighting for speed until her legs ached and her muscles relaxed. The cold water invaded her ears, and she bailed on a wave just to be run through the ringer. It woke her up and eased her headache and she paddled lazily in the lull between sets.

Clarke was content to float on her longboard and watch the sun rise. She kept concerned eyes on Lexa, made sure she surfaced each time, and smiled when Lexa paddled back out to her, red-faced and red-eyed and panting.

"Better?" Clarke asked, smiling wryly.

Lexa nodded, sheepish and quiet. She slicked back her hair and watched Clarke sweep calm hands through the water near her knees.

Clarke's smile softened. "Do your legs hurt now?"

"Yep," Lexa mumbled, rubbing her eyes.

Clarke's head was freezing and it was making her ears hurt, but she'd float out there as long as Lexa needed. She sat quietly, dragging her fingers through the water, until Lexa grabbed the nose of her board and pulled her closer.

"I'm sorry for snapping at you." Lexa said, eyes on Clarke's lips. She watched them quirk upwards and then met Clarke's warm gaze.

"I'd appreciate it loads if you would help me drive again, Clarke Griffin."

Clarke grinned, nodding. "Absolutely, goofy."

Lexa was struck with relief—thanked God who gave her this woman—and she ignored the nickname and kicked herself closer to Clarke until she could loop an arm around her girlfriend's neck and kiss her salty lips.

Clarke hummed sweetly and gripped Lexa's jaw to hold her gaze. "I'll help you, baby. No stress."

"I don't want to go back to Florida." Lexa said. "I have to file a business plan."

Clarke nodded. "Okay."

"And find a church."

"No problem," Clarke said, and her eyes were bright and determined in the rising sun. It cast a golden glow over her tangled, curled hair and Lexa simply stared for a moment. Clarke rubbed at her cheeks and under her nose like she had something stuck to her face.

Lexa smiled. "And I have to take you on a date." She said, leaning closer and holding Clarke's hands still. "A real sit-down date with food somebody else makes and no sand or saltwater."

Clarke bit her lip to contain her grin. "And shoes?"

"Definitely shoes," Lexa nodded. "Nice ones."

Clarke laughed.

"And I want to take you home and roll around with you in bed because I know you're freezing."

"I can help you with that one too." Clarke said, nodding.

She let Lexa push her into a wave, which she rode all the way in on her stomach, shrieking loudly in the quiet of dawn, and Lexa followed, winding up and down the face of her own wave and laughing at Clarke until her knee gave out.

They changed back into sweats on the mostly empty beach, and Lexa was toweling off her hair and shaking the droplets in Clarke's direction when they were approached. The guy had dark hair and a wide smile—almost leering—and his arms and chest were bulky in his wetsuit.

He tucked his shortboard higher under his arm and waved. "Hey! I'm usually the only one out here this early."

Clarke glanced at Lexa. She knew that would change.

"Are you the ones leasing that space up there?" He gestured back up to the road, to the future home of Jupiter Surf.

Lexa nodded shortly, nose pressed into her towel.

The guy's smile was loose and laid-back, and he held his hand out to Clarke first, who was always warmer and more welcoming towards strangers—possible fans—unless they were tripping her over with stray surfboards.

"Tristan." He introduced and pointed back over his shoulder to the crab house. "I used to work at Sepp's."

"Used to?" Lexa questioned when he shook her hand next.

"I quit to visit Australia." He shrugged. "Got back a month ago."

Clarke draped her towel around her neck like a cape and wrapped it around her shoulders. All bundled up, there was nothing for Tristan to ogle, and his eyes stayed fixed on her face. Lexa still stepped closer, pressed slightly into Clarke's side.

Clarke smiled up at her knowingly.

"So if you're looking to hire," Tristan continued, thumping a hand on his board, "I'm good with this kind of stuff. I can even teach you how to surf as good as me."

Clarke bit her tongue. Lexa's eyes narrowed at his terrible grammar and cocky grin.

"That's a pretty neon green board," She bit out. "Does it stand out when you're riding those ankle breakers?"

"Only the big ones, sweetheart."

"It really is very pretty." Clarke interrupted meekly. "Where did you get it?"

"It must be hard to balance when you can't even control that." Lexa nodded at his crotch, eyes flashing. "What's that called? Boner style?"

Tristan's jaw dropped and Clarke seized Lexa's elbow and dragged her backwards with a groan.

"Honestly, a child," she muttered, picking up her things and pointing Lexa towards her shortboard. Lexa went stiffly, annoyance fading to amusement at the way Clarke was yanking her around. She tried not to smile and put up as much resistance as possible.

Tristan's surprise had morphed to acceptance, a lecherous grin, and he walked towards the water and saluted them. "I'll see you ladies around. You know where to find me."

He gave Lexa a wink before turning away.

"I'm a better surfer than he is," Lexa grumbled, letting Clarke pull her up the beach.

Clarke rolled her eyes, smiling.

"Right, baby?" Lexa demanded. "I'm a better surfer than he is."

Clarke had no idea. She hadn't seen Tristan surf but she couldn't imagine enjoying it more than watching Lexa surf, so she nodded indulgently.

She swung their hands up and kissed Lexa's cold, salty knuckles. Lexa looked proud and pleased with herself and Clarke laughed loudly.

"Now hurry up, baby. We have things to do."


	19. Chapter 19

Bellamy slid through Clarke's entryway on striped socks, eagerly taking in everything about his temporary new home. He flicked all the light switches and knocked his knuckles into every door frame, and Lexa followed behind and rolled her eyes and attempted to trip him several times.

"Don't get your grubby hands on the walls," she said, pulling a face at the back of his head.

Bellamy spun and walked backwards through the living room, delighted with the size of the TV. "I'm clean, dude. I washed behind my ears and everything."

He held up his hands and waved his fingers around. "See, no sand. I can teach you how if you want."

Lexa leaned against the breakfast bar, eyebrow raised. "Step," she warned.

She watched with amusement as Bellamy stumbled backwards over the step up to the kitchen. Her smile faded quickly when he righted himself and went straight for the fridge, and she rushed around the bar and seized the back of his t-shirt to cut him off.

"Shit," he yelped, grabbing at his collar.

Lexa pushed him back a couple steps and he watched her with wide eyes.

"This is Clarke's fridge." Lexa said, gripping the handle. Her gaze was sharp and serious, and Bellamy jammed his hands in his pockets and nodded like it was obvious.

"Yeah?"

"This is her home and this is her food."

"And yours," Bellamy said, smiling. He could see where this was going.

Lexa's cheeks reddened only slightly, and she looked away and took in the three dozen banana muffins Clarke had baked the day before. It was ridiculous. Clarke was ridiculous. Bellamy watched her attempt to rein in her smile.

He grinned and offered, "I promise I won't eat her food."

Lexa studied his face, doubtful. Bellamy was a wolf, a cow, an indiscriminate eater.

"I'll eat your food," he said, eyeing the donuts sitting out on the counter, the Pop-Tarts Lexa had been having for breakfast because Clarke wasn't home to feed her.

"That's fine," she said shortly. She'd learned how to hide her goodies from Bellamy long ago. She walked back around the breakfast bar and gestured at the towering pile of banana muffins. "Clarke made you those."

His face lit up and he eagerly pried open the Tupperware. Lexa watched, pleased, a little revolted at the sounds he made. She knew Clarke would be proud of herself.

"I lub yo girfriend," Bellamy muttered, a muffin in each hand.

Lexa bit her cheek and broke her Pop-Tart into tiny little bits.

Bellamy swallowed and coughed and caught his breath. "How's the food here?" he asked in the gap before filling his mouth again.

Lexa smiled at him. "The sweet tea's awful."

"Aw, shid."

Lexa threw a paper towel in his direction. "But there's guacamole and burritos. Clarke makes sweet potato fries."

Bellamy puffed up proudly, swallowing. "I taught her that."

"I know you did." Lexa got up and walked back around the breakfast bar, leaned up to wrap an arm around his neck. "Thanks, Boris."

"You have sand in your hair," he observed, hugging her tightly.

She whacked him on the chest and he squeezed her again before letting her go. She returned to her seat and propped her chin in her hand and watched him eat through Clarke's muffin supply, trying not to think of residency applications and down payments and shipments and inventory.

Bellamy seemed to fill himself up quickly, and he leaned forward on the counter and observed Lexa's dazed expression with a smile. "So Lex, when are you gonna propose?"

Lexa's breath stuck in her throat and she cut her gaze up to Bellamy's. He looked amused mostly, entertained. There was a bit of genuine curiosity.

She was surprised at the surge of emotion, the beat of her heart, and she laughed shortly at herself, picked at the flecks of sand on her palm. "Get lost, Boris."

"No, seriously, you're not planning anything?" Bellamy's eyes were mirthful.

"What? That's not—it's only been—"

Lexa shut her mouth and felt her cheeks burn.

Bellamy lifted his eyebrows.

"Just shut it," Lexa mumbled.

"I'm just saying," Bellamy shrugged, leaning over the counter. He waited until Lexa looked up to continue, and her expression was soft, wary. "I have some ideas if you need help."

Lexa snorted a laugh.

"And I call best man." Bellamy grinned, reaching for more muffins. "And I'll need to rent a tux and cut my hair, so give me some warning."

Lexa hummed quietly. "Maybe ring bearer."

She was flushed and confused at herself—at permanence and commitment and finality—and she couldn't really look at Bellamy's knowing eyes, so she got out of her chair and walked across the living room, gesturing for him to follow.

He did—spouting off about sunset proposals and "I have a buddy who can marry you while you're scuba diving sixty feet down,"—and Lexa rubbed at her face and chuckled quietly and showed him Clarke's balconies.

She was stuck on the top one, watching Bellamy carefully to make sure he wouldn't tip over the edge, when she realized that she'd like to get married in the sand. The person she saw standing across from her was faceless, but her blonde hair and small hands and pink-painted toenails were familiar, and they made Lexa smile.

* * *

Standing in Clarke's driveway with her arms crossed, Lexa was sweating through her t-shirt. She dug her fingernails into her skin and frowned at Clarke's car from behind her sunglasses, swayed on her feet. Her stomach felt hollow already.

She glanced around uneasily and then dragged her gaze back to the driver's seat, observed the studio parking pass hanging from the rearview mirror, the extra shoes and scarves and sunglasses strewn about the backseat.

She stiffened when Clarke's hand landed on the small of her back.

"Ready, baby?" Clarke wondered, watching her carefully. She always disliked not being able to see Lexa's eyes.

Lexa blew out a shaky breath and wordlessly climbed into the driver's seat, cursing her trembling hands and California residency in her mind, everything that ever required a driver's license. Clarke got in next to her and patiently waited with her hands in her lap while Lexa settled into the seat.

Lexa ran a hand through her hair and plucked at where her shirt was sticking to her body. She glanced at Clarke and muttered, "It's so hot."

Clarke hummed, even though it was October on the Pacific coast and it was fairly cool outside.

Lexa checked her mirrors and made sure Clarke had her seatbelt on. She was growing paler by the second, and Clarke watched her with concern, mild alarm. She caught one of Lexa's shaky hands in mid-air—the one twirling her key around—and squeezed supportively.

"Head on straight?" she asked, half-smiling.

She pulled the sunglasses from Lexa's face and hooked them in Lexa's shirt.

Lexa cleared her throat and blinked rapidly to clear the haze of memories and double vision. She mumbled, "Yup," and pressed a sweaty hand to her pallid cheek.

"Lexa…" Clarke waited, hesitant, but her girlfriend wouldn't look at her. "We don't have to do this right now if you're not ready."

"I'm ready."

"You don't look ready," Clarke said gently.

Lexa steeled herself and clenched her jaw and turned on the engine. She kept her foot jammed down on the brake, though it wasn't necessary, and sat with white knuckles wrapped around the bottom of the steering wheel.

"Do you remember what to do?" Clarke asked, cautious and quiet.

Lexa thought about it, but all she could conjure was a mangled red car and chaos and terror and blood, paralysis and her father's face in the hospital, riding around in the backseat of Bellamy's Jeep ever since. She swallowed thickly and looked down at the gearshift.

She nodded, but couldn't bring herself to shift the car into reverse. Her eyes burned.

Clarke watched, pained. "Honey…"

And then Lexa thought about leaving the driveway, pulling out of Clarke's gate and rumbling along the road, controlling the car herself, navigating around drivers and pedestrians and Los Angeles, and it was too much. There were too many things out there, too many idiots, too much she couldn't control.

She mumbled, "Fuck," let go of the gearshift and the steering wheel and dug her nails into her jeans instead.

"It's okay, baby." Clarke whispered, reaching to pry one of her hands free.

Lexa's eyes were desperate and disappointed and sad, but mostly frightened, and she held Clarke's hand and looked out the window and explained, "It's—the double vision's too bad right now—we have to wait."

Clarke didn't buy it—it was a lie and Lexa knew it—but she accepted it without issue and followed Lexa out of the car. Lexa doubled over in the driveway, breathing heavily and trembling violently, hoping that Bellamy wouldn't come strolling out of the house to find her in this state.

Clarke rubbed her back, despite Lexa's protests of "No, I'm all sweaty," and patiently dragged the dark hair out of her eyes until Lexa straightened, still flushed and shaky but far more present. She was out of the car and she was on solid ground.

She had a sort of shameful smile on her face and Clarke pulled her into a hug and quietly assured, "You don't have to do this if you don't want to, Lexa. There are other ways."

Lexa chuckled tiredly and pressed her nose into Clarke's hair. "But this was such a success."

"A learning experience," Clarke said. "I thought you were going to vomit there."

Lexa pulled back and planted both hands on top of Clarke's head, lolled it back and forth affectionately. She held Clarke's attentive gaze and said, "Thank you."

Clarke shrugged, smiling. "It's what I do."

"It's how you roll."

Clarke laughed loudly. "It's how I roll."

She was pleased to see the color coming back to Lexa's face, the shakiness fading. Lexa dropped her hands from Clarke's head to her cheeks, stared at her for a moment—eyes bright—and kissed her. Clarke smiled against her lips and tucked her fingers into the tight front pockets of Lexa's jeans.

"Bellamy can drive you around for now," she suggested.

Lexa tipped her head, frowning. "Who's—"

"Shut it, baby." Clarke said before Lexa could finish her question.

Lexa gave her a winsome smile—just a little tired and red and soft around the edges—and led Clarke back up the driveway to the house.

* * *

Lexa had laid out a neat timeline in her head—a sloppy one on the back of a donut crusted, crumpled napkin—for when her Redondo shop would open, when she'd be meeting with her suppliers and hitting deadlines and paying endless fees. Her memory was unreliable though, a jumbled mess, and she spent an afternoon pacing the empty shop to straighten out the plans in her head.

She'd managed to write most of them down—illegibly on a sheet of paper she'd gotten frustrated with and balled up, then regretfully flattened back out—and she was asleep on her back on the solid countertop when the glass door was pushed open.

Bellamy's loud laugh woke her up, and she was blinking into the light and groaning at the pain in her back when he loomed over her.

"Naptime?"

Lexa scowled at him and sat up groggily, tugging her t-shirt where it had ridden up and straightening her shorts. She re-oriented herself with the earth and stared over Bellamy's shoulder, surprised to find Monty and Tristan—the friendly lifeguard and lecherous surfer she'd met on the beach—standing in her shop, taking in the surroundings.

"You forgot," Bellamy observed, smiling.

Lexa blinked at him, rubbed her eye.

"We had a meeting, remember? To go over layouts." Bellamy threw a thumb over his shoulder at Monty and Tristan, stepped into Lexa's space and whispered, "I found these guys outside. I assumed they're the ones you were talking about."

It clicked then, and Lexa nodded in realization. She had a yellow Sticky-Note reminder with loopy, pink scrawl on it tucked into her bikini bottoms because her red shorts had no pockets.

"Clarke said she left you a note in your lunch," Bellamy remarked.

Tristan ambled over at that, smiling widely. "Dude, your girlfriend packs you lunch?"

Lexa rolled her eyes and slid off the counter. She couldn't deny it—Clarke's little lunchbox of pasta and a pear, some cookies and a baggie of cereal had kept Lexa from hitting the proverbial wall. She greeted Monty, who rocked on his heels and complimented her beautiful floors, and then herded the boys through the back to the lounge.

There was only one couch so far, a soft blue thing that would fill up with sand fast, and Monty and Tristan dropped into it while Bellamy dragged two chairs from the kitchen area. Lexa ignored hers and paced the room in a circle, counting off on her fingers.

"So what do you do?" Tristan asked after several beats of silence, staring at Bellamy, sizing him up.

Lexa made sure to keep an eye on them. The grit in her shoes was making her toes raw, and she needed to find a scuba supplier Finn would like and a shop front design Raven wouldn't mock.

"I deal with the boards mostly." Bellamy said proudly. "And help run the Jupiter shop."

Tristan leaned back with an arm behind his head, nodding wordlessly. Monty seemed genuinely curious.

"I shape about ten percent of what we sell, plus customs."

"Super Bellamy," Lexa called at him, kicking her loose shoes into the corner and contemplating which posters to order and how to get Clarke's Sticky-Note out of her bikini bottoms without anyone noticing.

Tristan sat forward, suddenly interested. "You shape surfboards?"

Bellamy nodded, grinning. He set his elbows on his knees and bounced his feet.

"That's cool, man, that's cool," Tristan said casually. He sat back again and attempted to quell his excitement. "What kinds?"

"All kinds. Longboards weren't real big in Jupiter."

"You'll do way more around here," Monty remarked.

Tristan tipped forward and glanced over at Lexa, who was writing something on the back of her hand with a yellow highlighter. He jerked his chin in her direction and asked, "Is that how you got with her?"

Bellamy stiffened. His easy gaze hardened and Tristan noticed and held up his hands.

"I mean, like, how you got started working with her." He clarified, and Bellamy wondered if maybe Tristan's default expression was just that of suggestive innuendo.

"I know she's got a girlfriend." Tristan continued, nodding to himself. "I met her. She's tiny."

Bellamy looked over at Lexa. She was standing at the sink washing the highlighter off her hand and wondering if she'd have to drive all the way up to Sacramento to get somebody to speak with her about employer identification numbers. She sighed heavily and dragged her hair out of her face, and Bellamy watched her pluck a yellow Sticky-Note out of the front of her—formerly his—red shorts.

He smothered a laugh and looked back at Tristan and said, "We were friends for a while before we started surfing."

"What about you?" Tristan turned to Monty next. "You got a girlfriend?"

"I'm actually seeing a guy." Monty smiled. "I met him at the gym and he told me he's a semi-pro surfer. I don't believe him, but he's sweet."

Bellamy narrowed his eyes. "Really? Because Clarke said to watch you because you were hitting on Lexa."

Tristan gasped, scandalized and delighted.

Bellamy was going to press further—Lexa and Clarke were off the table, his to protect—when Lexa appeared in front of him. She handed him a piece of paper and a highlighter and said, "Get their backgrounds, make sure they're not ex-cons, and hire them if they're not idiots."

Tristan scoffed, but Lexa was pulling off her t-shirt, absently revealing the scars down her back, across her abdomen, and he shut his mouth abruptly.

"Lexa…" Bellamy warned, because she was breathing shallowly and stressed to the max, a little manic, and the sun had set and the water would be freezing.

She simply smiled at him and ruffled his hair, said, "Thanks, Boris," and then hurried out the lounge door in a bikini top and lifeguard shorts.

* * *

Bellamy was unsurprised when Clarke came knocking on the door an hour later. He'd pretty much cleared Tristan for employment—he had some questionable run-ins as a teenager, but his adult life was spent managing Sepp's and traveling the world—and was working on Monty's history when Clarke let herself in.

She glanced around, not quite frantic, and offered Tristan and Monty a wave before lifting a questioning eyebrow at Bellamy.

"Dunno," he said. "She took off an hour ago."

Clarke spun on her heel and swept back out the door, mumbling something like, "fucking child," and, "swimming in the fucking dark."

She went straight to the beach, warm in her dark jeans and boots and Lexa's black jacket, and squinted out at the shadowy water, the crashing waves, until she found a dark head bobbing calmly between breaks. Lexa didn't seem to be surfing, just swimming, and Clarke shook her head, exasperated because she could only imagine how cold the water was, and dropped into the sand to wait.

She decided that if Lexa wasn't out within sixty seconds, she'd have to go in to extract her.

Clarke recognized the moment Lexa caught sight of her. She went from floating lazily in the swells to standing up straight, alert, and she started swimming back in immediately. She was panting when she stomped out of the water, shorts askew, and she dropped next to Clarke and slicked back her hair while Clarke sat silently.

When Lexa was situated, shivering already, she took a few moments to look at her girlfriend, to observe her expression. The whites of her eyes stood out in the dark.

She bit her lip, scooted closer to Clarke's side, and quietly asked, "Are you angry with me?"

Clarke laughed softly, shook her head. "No, baby."

Lexa studied her. "Are you okay?"

"Are you?" Clarke countered, eyebrow lifted. She took one of Lexa's hands and rubbed to warm it up.

Lexa hummed, nodding. "I texted you."

Clarke snorted. She stood up and Lexa's eyes followed her ass. "Your text said ocean, Lexa. That's it. Please elaborate next time."

"Absolutely, Clarke Griffin," Lexa smiled, leaning back in the sand.

Clarke looked down at her, expecting her to get up, but Lexa didn't move. She was covered in goosebumps, and now sand, and she tipped her head up and winked and said, "You look nice in those jeans."

Clarke scoffed, bashful, and held out a hand for her girlfriend. Lexa's smile widened.

"What is wrong with you? You're freezing." Clarke chided.

Lexa let herself be pulled to her feet, and then she was in Clarke's space, wrapping cold fingers around Clarke's wrist to stop her from removing her jacket.

"You wear it, baby," Lexa insisted, and her breath was warm against Clarke's face. She smiled playfully and headed for the pier—walking quickly, slipping in the sand—leading Clarke along. Clarke went easily, watching the way Lexa's shorts stuck wetly to the backs of her thighs, until she realized Lexa was looking at her face with amused, dark eyes and a lifted brow.

"What—where are we going?" Clarke stammered, glancing around like she'd never seen the beach before.

Lexa stopped abruptly, right under the pier, and Clarke ran into her so that they stumbled backwards together. She steadied herself with her warm hands on Lexa's abdomen, rubbing lightly, and looked expectantly up at her girlfriend.

She knew what Lexa was doing. She'd figured it out.

Lexa backed her up against one of the concrete pillars and kissed her clumsily in the dark, making Clarke laugh against her nose. She brought Lexa's cold hands to her cheeks to help her find her lips, and Lexa mumbled, "There you are," and tried again.

She pressed her body to her girlfriend's, eager for the warmth, and pulled her head back just enough to see her face. Clarke's mouth was open and her teeth stood out. Lexa smiled.

"I know you said you don't want to be one of those people…" Lexa drawled, shifting a bare leg between Clarke's and watching her reaction.

She put her lips against Clarke's ear and whispered, "The ones who fuck under the pier..."

Clarke choked a laugh and gripped Lexa's hips to hold her there.

"But I feel like you've changed your mind," Lexa chuckled, undoing the front of Clarke's jeans.

Clarke looked wildly around to make sure the beach was deserted, that there were no eyes peering through the cracks in the pier or watching from the waves. It was so dark she couldn't see a thing, and she tucked her thumbs into the elastic of Lexa's wet shorts and tugged.

It was bizarre being able to see so little, maybe thrilling. She found Lexa's hair in her mouth and hand in her pants, all salty and smelling like seaweed and mango lotion, her back slipping down the pillar as she sunk a bit in the sand. She felt like a teenager again, in small town, Ohio, but it was Lexa with her, groaning lowly and smiling against her neck and clutching Clarke tightly.

"Feeling better?" Clarke asked breathlessly, eyes on the frothy whitewater she could barely make out over Lexa's rocking shoulder.

Lexa looked at her, and her eyes were bright and her hair was a half-dry mess, and her bikini was only holding one of her boobs now, and she laughed at Clarke's expression, kissed her, and staggeringly managed, "You make it all worthwhile."

* * *

Lexa spent the next day at home, on the couch and floor and coffee table in the living room, building herself a sea of financial documents and red pens and trash while Bellamy bonded with her new employees. She sank lower and lower, until she was sprawled across the floor and leaning back against the couch, asleep and snoring lightly with her glasses tipping off her nose.

The opening of the front door and Clarke's merry, "Lexa, I brought Harper!" woke her up, and she managed to straighten up and focus her eyes on a wrinkled, mislabeled schedule before Clarke strode into the room.

"Hey, babe," Lexa mumbled tiredly.

Clarke took in the state of her gorgeous living room, obscured by a layer of paper. Her girlfriend seemed to be losing the thread of reality—on the floor in crooked glasses, frowning at a schedule that she was holding upside down. Harper walked right in and stood next to Clarke and hummed at the sight.

"I brought help." Clarke said, crossing the room and dragging a hand through Lexa's hair as she stepped over her to sit on the couch.

"Reinforcements," Harper nodded.

Lexa tipped her head back onto the cushion and stared at Clarke. "I don't need help."

"You do."

"I've got it under control," Lexa insisted, twisting enough to find that she was sitting on a pair of scissors and the debit card she thought she'd lost.

Clarke smiled fondly at her girlfriend's expression. She scratched at the back of Lexa's neck and gestured to the sea of papers, capless pens, and Oreo crumbs. "What do you call this, baby?"

"Outstanding."

Harper snorted. "You're so full of it."

Lexa grinned at her, threw a yellow paper ball in her direction. "You guys have your own stuff," she said, squeezing Clarke's bare foot. "You're making a movie and dancing all day. I can't—"

"Well, this is peculiar," Clarke interjected loudly, nose buried in a notebook she'd found jammed down the side of the couch. She handed it to Harper and said, "It's from 1998. We need to print out something more up to date."

Harper nodded seriously and produced a MacBook from her bag.

Lexa shook her head. "You need sleep, Clarke. You have your own—"

"I think I'll fill out a planner while you work on that, Harper," Clarke said, tugging on Lexa's ear.

Highlighters and dividers and folders materialized from Harper's bag, and Lexa sighed and sat quietly, thankful. She let Clarke play with her hair and picked at the leftover Oreos in her lap. Eventually, she shut her eyes, and Harper and Clarke worked around her.

Clarke leaned forward and plucked off her glasses, kissed her cheek. She murmured, "We're just helping you get set up, baby."

And Lexa adored her for it. She managed, "Love you," in her exhausted state.

Clarke shared a smile with Harper. "Will your back be okay here? Do you want to go upstairs?"

Lexa slipped down to lie flat on the floor, on top of Clarke's feet, and was sleeping before she could answer.

* * *

Finn stood in Clarke's trailer, in the cramped space between the tiny fridge and sink, demonstrating for Clarke a few of the dance step changes that had been made. She'd grasped them a while ago—ten hours ago, when she'd first arrived on set—and she let Finn continue on mostly for her own entertainment.

He seemed to be enjoying himself. Everybody would get a little delirious as they waited for the sun to set so they could shoot, but he eventually hopped up onto the narrow counter, careful not to hit his head, and smiled at Clarke.

She watched him disinterestedly, stretched across the breakfast booth.

"How's Lexa?"

Clarke smiled automatically and looked away. She'd dropped Lexa off at the shop that morning, far less stressed and more organized than she'd been in a while. Lexa had kissed her especially nicely for the lunch Clarke had packed and then called Tristan and Monty morons.

"She's great," Clarke said vaguely.

Finn kicked his legs. "Does she mind that we spend alone time together?"

Clarke rolled her eyes at "alone time" and Finn opened one of her cabinets and peered inside curiously, and then shut it when he found nothing interesting.

"No, seriously, is she the jealous type?"

"She trusts me," Clarke remarked confidently, holding his gaze.

He nodded, genuinely pleased. Clarke imagined that he didn't have many friends on set—he was in charge and he was constantly flouting his supreme talent—and he probably still had a crush on her. In her mind he'd gone from "antagonistic, manipulative asshole" to "benevolent, sarcastic narcissist" and the latter was somebody she could be friends with.

He ran a hand through his curly hair and leaned back into the cabinets. "So she's staying around?"

Lexa had walked through the house stark naked that morning while Bellamy was still asleep, opening cabinets and closets and searching for towels, before giving up and groaning exaggeratedly and falling into the couch while Clarke watched and laughed from the kitchen.

Clarke took it as a sign that Lexa felt at home now, comfortable and special. Clarke's house was her house and Clarke's couch was her couch and she would not be leaving.

"She is," Clarke nodded, proud.

Finn winked at her. "You lucky dog."

"You're going to break my counter."

"When are you gonna propose?" Finn wondered innocently, tipping his head.

Clarke laughed shortly, before she could contain it. She lifted an eyebrow at Finn but couldn't really find any words.

"I'll help you find a ring. I know people," Finn nodded to himself.

Clarke's gaze drifted off to the Jupiter Surf schedule stuck on her fridge. She wondered about Lexa and commitment, if her girlfriend would fly off the handle if she were to propose, or if she'd fly back to Florida where everything was more familiar and stay there forever.

The wedding Clarke had been planning since she was four would take place outside, breezy and bright with lots of pastel flowers and Barbra Streisand sitting next to her parents. She would sing, and Clarke would be in a flowy white dress and she'd dance with her wife under twinkling lights all night.

The thought occurred to her that Lexa would probably prefer to have Frank Sinatra or Dean Martin as a wedding song, and it brought tears to her eyes.

"Shit," Finn mumbled, watching Clarke cautiously. He put down the bottle opener he'd been examining and gently asked, "What's wrong?"

Clarke gave a watery, embarrassed laugh. She knocked her head back against the window and replied, "Just happy."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy holidays everyone :) x

Clarke stood square in front of the shop door, smiling up at the sign. It was a brand new bright blue "Jupiter Surf," not yet faded and sun-bleached like its twin in Florida. A temporary sign in the window announced that the shop would be opening tomorrow, the first day of spring, a sunny Saturday when southern California would be flocking to the beach.

Lexa kept complaining that the water would be too cold for most people, fretting that nobody would show up, waking Clarke in the dead of night to double-check the things she'd forgotten during the day. Clarke had taken to writing lists in permanent marker on her girlfriend's arms because she was legitimately driving her to the brink of something – crime, insanity, nirvana.

"City hall, giant grapes, & tampons," from a week ago, was still faintly visible on Lexa's left forearm.

Clarke pushed open the door and strode into the fully-stocked shop. It was airy and bright, roomier than the original Jupiter Surf, all squeaky wood floors and brickwork and handpicked posters – far from a "fucking Ron Jon's."

"Can I help you?"

Clarke grinned and turned. Lexa was up in the loft, surrounded by surfboards, leaning against the rail and staring down at her with a polite smile.

"I'm sure you can."

Lexa pushed off the rail and headed for the stairs. "I'm sorry, but we don't open until tomorrow."

She took the last three steps as one giant bound, sending her free plastic sunglasses skittering across the floor while Clarke snorted. After retrieving them, Lexa stood expectantly in front of Clarke with her bare feet and sunburnt cheeks, her sunny mess of hair curling around her shoulders.

"Are we really playing this game?"

Lexa frowned, confused. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Okay," Clarke nodded wisely, "Well, I'm looking for a lifeguard."

Lexa scanned Clarke's legs thoroughly, her arms, her face, her pink-painted toes. She found no injury and shrugged. "You won't find one here."

Clarke eyed Lexa's red shorts. "Are you sure?"

"Why do you need a lifeguard?" Lexa stepped closer, eyebrow lifted. "Did something sting you? Bite you? Tie you up and take you away?"

Clarke rolled her eyes, smiling. "Somebody's going to tie you up and take you away."

"Is that a promise, Clarke Griffin?" Lexa smiled widely, reaching for her girlfriend.

Clarke gasped and swatted at her hands. "You know who I am?"

Lexa wrangled her closer, squeezed her tightly and kissed the side of her head before Clarke could escape. When she was released, Clarke caught one of Lexa's hands – the one that said "BARBEQUE SAUCE" in solid black letters over her wrist – and offered up the canvas bag she'd brought.

Lexa's eyes lit up further. "Presents?"

"Presents," Clarke hummed, pulling out the contents of the bag. She held up the new red lifeguard shorts and watched her girlfriend's face.

"They're the same as those," Clarke said, nodding at the shorts Lexa was wearing, "except the elastic works and they're not indecently threadbare."

Lexa took in the shorts wordlessly. Her mouth dropped slightly open.

"And they never belonged to a boy," Clarke added, letting Lexa take them from her. "They don't have all the…the memories, I guess, but these say Redondo and they're authentic, like Bellamy's."

Lexa chuckled shortly. Her voice was thick when she said, "Not that touristy nonsense."

Clarke smiled. "Right."

Lexa bent over, hooked her thumbs in the waistband of her shorts and pulled them down abruptly. Clarke nearly fell over in her haste to make sure that nobody was watching through the front glass while keeping an eye on her girlfriend's ass. Lexa pulled the new shorts on and looked so pleased with them that Clarke gave herself a little pat on the back.

"They fit?" Clarke checked.

Lexa looked at her for a moment and then pulled her into another hug. She mumbled, "Thank you, baby," against Clarke's ear.

"Happy almost-opening-day, goofy."

Lexa rolled her watery eyes when she pulled back. "Don't call me that."

"Lexa Woods, your shirt is on inside-out," Clarke plucked affectionately at a sleeve and plunged her hand back into her canvas bag.

While Lexa flushed and frowned down at herself and dragged her t-shirt over her head, Clarke pulled out the food she'd brought – subs and Oreos and a cheese concoction Lexa had discovered a week ago and spoke of incessantly – along with a black marker. She dumped everything onto the front counter and watched Lexa's attention go right to the food.

Clarke took her free hand – held on despite Lexa's protests – and carefully wrote, "I love you. Don't panic," on the inside of her arm while she ate.

Lexa read it distractedly when Clarke finished, and then again, a double-take. She smiled slightly, still chewing, and silently demanded the marker from a reluctant Clarke, along with her arm.

"Nothing inappropriate," Clarke insisted quietly.

Lexa made an unintelligible noise, spraying crumbs over the counter.

It only took her a minute, but she wrote in giant letters all up Clarke's left arm. Clarke was shaking her head the whole time, wondering how best to get it off. She'd decided on rubbing alcohol when Lexa finished, capped the marker, and kissed Clarke's hand.

"All done, Miss Griffin."

Clarke cautiously twisted her arm around to survey the damage. It said, "IF LOST, RETURN TO LEXA," and she broke out into silent laughter.

Lexa watched her face and kept eating, proud of herself. She smiled around her taco and said, "Happy almost-opening-day. I love you too."

* * *

Getting Lexa to the airport to pick up Katherine, Raven, and Lincoln was like trying to spin the world the other way. She hated the crowds, the smell, the cold floors, the rush, and she fought Clarke and Bellamy the whole way, sulking in the backseat of Clarke's car in her new shorts.

"We don't all need to be here," she grumbled once they were seated in the airport, wasting her time.

Bellamy tipped back in his chair, nodding. "Yup. You've only said that four hundred times."

"Shut your – "

"Children," Clarke whispered loudly, cutting her girlfriend off. She pressed herself against Lexa's side and tugged her hat further down.

"Would you rather I come by myself?" Clarke wondered, inches from Lexa's face. "I'll come all alone, be recognized, mobbed, and swept away by crazy airport people."

Bellamy hummed his agreement.

"Then you'll wish you'd been here." Clarke huffed. "No more whining."

Lexa tipped her head back and forth. She tapped the writing on Clarke's arm and said, "You'd make it home eventually."

"They'd deliver her right to your doorstep," Bellamy remarked, grinning.

Lexa laughed. She leaned forward to see Clarke's unamused face and kissed her lips, adding, "With a stamp right here." She poked Clarke's stomach. "And a bow right here."

Clarke bit her cheek. "You are just such a pain."

"Tell me about it," a voice groaned, and three heads turned to find Raven, Lincoln, and Katherine standing directly behind their chairs.

Katherine, unburdened by bags, surged forward first and pulled Lexa up and out of her seat to give her a hug. Lexa returned it, reining in her smile, and let her mom fuss for a bit.

"Oh, honey, you need sunblock," was the first thing Katherine said. She reached out for Clarke next, who was coming out of Lincoln's spin, and observed them side by side.

"We had to drag her here," Clarke told Katherine, watching her girlfriend's face affectionately, the barely suppressed joy. Lexa grinned down at her feet while her mother tutted and greeted Bellamy.

She found herself passed off to Raven and Lincoln next, who wore disparate expressions of feigned indifference and excitement.

"She's in shoes!" Lincoln cheered quietly, wrapping his arms around Lexa and tipping her side to side.

Lexa watched Raven over his shoulder. "You run me out of business yet?"

Raven shrugged, smiling. "Roan and O'll do it sometime this week, no worries."

"As long as –" Lexa cut herself off, eyeing the box at Raven's feet. She pulled out of Lincoln's hold and narrowed her eyes at Raven.

"That's not…Is that…"

Raven laughed and toed the small animal carrier so that it was facing Lexa. "Why don't you bend over and look, idiot?"

Lexa crouched down, and Clarke identified the precise moment that she recognized Mars's smoky face through the bars. It was pure delight, and she tipped back and sat on the floor to stick her fingers through the carrier.

"Don't draw too much attention," Bellamy drawled, "Clarke will fly off the handle."

Clarke smacked his shoulder and he ran to Lincoln, the buddy he'd been missing, his partner in crime.

"The fuck is on your arms, Lexa?" Raven asked, staring amusedly down at her dark head of hair. Raven turned to Clarke for an explanation, caught the writing up Clarke's arm, and pulled a face that said these people were idiots. "The fuck is on – "

"Language, Raven," Katherine chastised, straightening out Bellamy's collar and frowning at the length of his hair.

Lincoln snickered beside him.

Lexa stood up, hugging the cat carrier to her chest, oblivious to what everybody else had been doing. Her gaze found Clarke, the only one who was paying attention to her, and Lexa lifted an eyebrow expectantly. "Everybody ready?"

Clarke chuckled, nodding.

Lexa strode away in the wrong direction, paused after about ten years, looked around and shuffled back, confused. "Where did we –"

"That way, baby," Clarke pointed and herded up her people to get them moving.

* * *

Raven, Lincoln, and Katherine toured Clarke's house, fawning over the gate and the balconies and the little speakers built into the walls. Raven mocked the ceramic pug on her mantle, but approved the jets in her giant bathtub. They settled into their rooms, fell asleep, and woke up when Bellamy lit the barbecue and shrieked at the abrupt wall of fire.

Now, Clarke's house was milling with her friends, all there to celebrate Jupiter Surf and good food, and something that she had yet to reveal.

She stood on her balcony in her red party dress – buzzed but not tipsy enough to fall over the edge and land in her roses – watching everybody down below.

Bellamy had introduced Lincoln to Tristan and Monty, and they'd all loosened their collars and filled up their plates with ribs for some kind of contest that Clarke hoped wouldn't require an ambulance. Finn and Miller seemed to be acting as judges, yelling unintelligibly over the top of each other. Raven sat near the barbecue with a beer in hand, her heels discarded somewhere across the yard, deep in conversation with Harper and Katherine.

Clarke searched for Lexa quickly, her lovely blue dress and sunny hair. Mars hadn't left her side since he'd been set free. She was watching Clarke with a smile, of course, the only one who'd noticed that Clarke was up on the balcony.

She tipped back in her chair and cupped her hands around her mouth, called, "Don't do it, Clarke!"

Clarke rolled her eyes.

"What are you doing?" Raven yelled, and it was enough for all of the guys to realize where Clarke was.

This spot would be perfect for her dramatic reveal.

Miller shouted, "Come back down!" over Finn's "How did you get up there?"

"I have something exciting for you all!" Clarke proclaimed, clasping her hands together.

"What?" Tristan yelled bluntly, squinting up at her.

Clarke huffed. The setting sun was starting to blind her. "I have something – "

"Is it food?" Raven asked loudly.

Katherine waved her hand around and called, "Clarke, honey, we can't hear you."

Clarke sighed, exasperated. Her fabulous balcony reveal was crumbling and she'd have to descend back to ground level. She caught Lexa's sympathetic look and shrugged before making her way down the spiral iron staircase.

Everybody sat quietly, expectantly, when she stood in front of them again.

"Can you hear me?" she spoke slowly, loudly, enunciating every word. Lexa snorted off to the side.

Clarke was met with excited nods. She took a deep breath and gestured at the screen Bellamy had set up for a movie.

"We will still be watching The Endless Summer to celebrate Lexa's shop opening tomorrow, but I have something else for you guys that I really hope you'll like."

Finn eyed her knowingly, smiling his boastful smile.

"Play it, Clarke!" Harper called, banging her cup against the table. Raven joined in the banging and shouted, "What is it?"

Clarke bit her lip, twisted the rings around her fingers. In the next five minutes, she could destroy a classic musical for these people. She could wreck one of Lexa's favorites, or she could prove that Anything Goes was back and better than ever.

Clarke Griffin was back and better than ever, making do without a balcony.

She cleared her throat and smiled widely, sunset in her eyes. "Ladies and gents, little boys," she eyed a particular table, "Allow me to present the first official trailer of the 2015 film production of the Cole Porter classic, Anything Goes."

She swept over to her laptop to start the trailer amidst whooping from her people, a whistle from Katherine, scattered clapping and a rush to turn and face the screen. Lexa was at her back almost instantly, Mars at her feet. She wrapped her arms around Clarke's waist and settled her chin on Clarke's shoulder to watch.

"This is a surprise," she drawled with a kiss to Clarke's ear.

Clarke tipped comfortably back into her. Lexa smelled like citrus and wine, and the first verse of "Anything Goes" blasted through Clarke's backyard as the trailer started playing. She winced at the volume, but reveled in everything else.

It was lively and energetic, focused mostly on Reno Sweeney and the dance numbers, and Clarke was proud. Lexa was bouncing a little to the beat, swaying Clarke with her, by the time it ended.

Their friends hollered, stood up and hollered even louder, and Clarke sunk back into Lexa, bright red and grinning from ear to ear. Finn bowed, calling "Thank you, thank you," to nobody in particular.

"That accent, girl!" Harper whistled.

Clarke nodded gratefully at her.

"Kath, I've gone deaf." Raven said loudly, reaching for Katherine. "The movie looks killer, but I've gone deaf. Are you deaf? I'm deaf."

Bellamy raised a hand, "My bad, dude. I didn't expect it to be so loud."

Lexa nuzzled into Clarke's neck. "It looks incredible, Clarke."

"Yeah?" Clarke shrugged her shoulders up shyly, craned her neck around so that she could see her girlfriend's face. "You don't think I ruined it for you?"

Lexa stared at her. "Clarke Griffin."

Clarke remained silent.

"I have been taken with you since you sang Don't Let the Stars Get in Your Eyes when you were sixteen," Lexa murmured, eyebrow lifted. "You can only, possibly, ever make things better for me."

Clarke pressed her lips together and spun around to hold Lexa properly.

Harper and Katherine awwed behind them, and Miller declared that it was karaoke time somewhere in the background.

"I'm proud of you," Lexa said, tugging on the ends of Clarke's straightened hair.

Clarke smiled against her neck. She pulled back and observed Lexa's face. "I didn't mean to steal your thunder or anything by doing this."

Lexa scoffed. "I've got loads of thunder."

"You can share," Clarke nodded.

Lexa was silent for a moment, arms draped loosely around Clarke's waist. Eventually, with narrowed eyes focused over Clarke's shoulder, she whispered, "Bellamy's absconding with my dessert," and Clarke devolved into silent laughter and dragged Lexa away for karaoke.

* * *

They fell clumsily into bed just before midnight, after Lexa lost her heels and rapped California Love on the balcony with backup from Clarke and Harper. Clarke woke up in the dark with a dry mouth, a cat asleep on her knees, and she squinted at the clock and found that it was three in the morning.

She frowned at an odd sound, a muted crunching, then realized that Lexa was eating something in bed and rolled over to face her. The chewing stopped abruptly.

"What are you doing?" Clarke rasped, blinking up at the dim outline of her girlfriend's face.

Lexa set her bowl of chips on the side table and sank closer to Clarke. "Can't sleep."

"What are you eating?"

"Doritos."

Clarke laughed shortly, half-asleep. "Are you still drunk?"

"Probably," Lexa said with an easy shrug. She wrapped an arm around Clarke's waist and squeezed.

"Don't get Dorito dust on my duvet."

Lexa was quiet for a moment. "It's dark. I can't see."

"That's no excuse," Clarke mumbled.

Lexa sighed heavily, like she was being put out. She hummed a little to herself and then pressed her lips against Clarke's cheek. "I found a church, baby."

"Mm, that's good."

"It's in another country."

Clarke blinked her eyes open, frowning. "What?"

Lexa lolled her head around in a nod. "It's in Ventura County."

"Oh." Clarke closed her eyes again. Ten past three in the morning. "You said country, not county."

Lexa laughed, her breath hot against Clarke's cheek. "I said county."

"You said country," Clarke mumbled.

"No, I didn't."

Clarke sighed, burrowing deeper into her pillow. "Okay, you said county you lunatic. Go to sleep."

Lexa settled her head behind Clarke's, like she was complying, and it only took a minute for Clarke to nearly fall asleep again.

"Clarke."

Clarke groaned and rolled over onto her back. Mars clung to her knees for the ride.

"Sorry," Lexa said quickly, and head-on her breath smelled like Doritos and alcohol. Clarke grimaced and pressed her girlfriend's head down to rest on her shoulder.

"I just want you to know I'm so happy that I moved here." Lexa murmured.

Clarke's annoyance faded and she tangled a hand into Lexa's hair. "What a fantastic time to tell me."

"I didn't want to forget. I've never felt so happy."

Clarke smiled into the darkness, pressed a kiss to the top of Lexa's head. "Get some sleep, goofy."

Lexa sighed at the name and wrapped a leg over Clarke's.

"And for the record," Clarke added, shutting her eyes again, "I'm so happy you moved here too."

* * *

Lexa had spent a few nerve-wracking months re-learning how to drive. She'd started by sitting in the car, with the keys in the house, reclining in the driver's seat and napping with The Beach Boys playing through her iPod. She'd take a package of Oreos out to the backseat and do her work there, despite Clarke's protests about crumbs, and then she'd convince Clarke to join her to make the backseat even more enjoyable.

Clarke always would – only because her house was gated – and Lexa learned to love the backseat, and then the front seat, the whole space.

She'd only been legitimately driving Clarke's car for a few weeks, and it was mostly around her block at snail speed, with Clarke sitting quietly in the passenger seat with a pile of trashy magazines. Lexa doubted she'd ever be able to manage real traffic again, but she impulsively volunteered herself to drive Clarke, Katherine, Bellamy, and Raven to the grand opening at Jupiter Surf.

It was only blocks away, mostly residential streets with no lines, and Lexa felt confident.

She pulled cautiously out of Clarke's driveway, eyeing the three faces in the rearview mirror. Katherine was squished in the middle because, "She has the shortest legs!" according to Bellamy, and her gaze was patient and relaxed. Raven's conveyed barely concealed fright.

"How much was this car?" Bellamy wondered, dragging his fingers over the soft leather. He shook his head and touched the ceiling next. "Like, don't answer that, but it's awesome."

Lexa rolled slowly up to the stop sign at the end of Clarke's street.

"Thank you, Bellamy." Clarke said, one eye on Lexa.

She pulled out onto the road and Raven kneed the back of her seat, smiling. "Geez, Lex. Slow it down."

Lexa rolled her eyes at the rear view mirror and slouched a bit, relaxing her white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel.

Katherine leaned forward and assured, "You're doing very well, honey."

The car crawled forward, and Lexa gave a wide berth – about ten unnecessary feet – to a plastic recycling bin that had been pushed out into the road.

"Cut that one close," Raven drawled, and Clarke couldn't help but laugh.

Lexa cut her eyes over and Clarke smiled fondly, eyebrow lifted. "Yes?"

"Don't mock the driver," Bellamy admonished, now playing with his window controls. He frowned out the window and kneed the back of Clarke's seat. "Are we even moving?"

"Shut it, Boris," Lexa bit out. Clarke reclined her seat fully into his lap.

"Who has the short legs now?" Katherine muttered, tipping away from them.

Lexa pulled into the shared parking lot behind the surf shop and crab house. She turned the engine off and took a deep breath, relieved, and Clarke squeezed her hand before getting out of the car.

"That was a roller coaster of a ride, Woods." Raven declared, leaning against the car and panting heavily. "Gotta catch my breath now."

Lexa gave her a shove as she walked by, a grateful smile for not being told to go faster, to drive like a normal person. The rest of her crew – Lincoln, Monty, and Tristan – was lounging around the jungle of pink morning glories and vines that was Jupiter Surf's back patio. Harper was lying on Bellamy's shaping table, hungover and staring at the gradually lightening sky.

They all wore Jupiter Surf t-shirts in various colors, with "REDONDO" in block letters underneath the logo. Lexa's said "BOSS" on the back. Clarke's was bright pink.

"Ready?" Tristan wondered, bouncing eagerly to his feet.

Lexa didn't bother stopping. She strode right up to the back of the shop and unlocked the door, smiling to herself.

"Ready."

* * *

By ten a.m., the shop was packed. The surf crowd came first, interested mostly in Bellamy's boards and the novel, quality gear lining Lexa's shelves. Families followed, beach-goers and kiddos, drive-bys interested in the hot dog and burger stand Tristan had set up right outside the door.

Lexa found that she wasn't rushing around, that she wasn't overwhelmed, because her people were not actually incompetent morons. She enjoyed the crowd, the smell of the barbecue and the ocean.

Clarke slid up next to her behind the counter a little after noon.

She handed Lexa a hotdog with honey mustard and said, "Lexa Woods, you have the only surf shop in southern California with Dean Martin playing over the speakers and a jungle out back."

Lexa nodded proudly. "And Mars Bar."

Clarke bent to scratch behind his ears and re-tied one of Lexa's shoes while she was on its level.

Lexa sang along lowly, mostly to her food and because only Clarke could hear, "My life is gonna be bee-yoo-tee-ful," and then took a bite of her hot dog and kissed Clarke quickly.

"Love you," she said, catching falling mustard with her hand and flashing "Don't panic" on her wrist.

Clarke smiled and glanced around, wiping at her mouth. She'd been recognized many times, taken many pictures, but it was an ordinary Los Angeles phenomenon and she didn't anticipate being mobbed.

"Time to hit the water, baby." She informed, pulling Lexa along. "The contest starts in ten minutes."

It had been Bellamy's idea – the mini, two-round surf contest – and their little sign-up sheet had been filling with names all morning. Round one for adults, round two for groms.

Lexa would be taking part in round one, along with Tristan, Bellamy, Raven, and a multitude of locals, and she peeled off her t-shirt and replaced it with a rashguard while juggling her hotdog and surfboard on her way to the water with Clarke.

They joined the small throng of spectators and competitors, found Tristan doing push-ups in the sand to prepare, overheard Monty quickly giving Harper a run-down on surfing so that she could act as their fourth judge – with him, Lincoln, and Clarke.

"Our celebrity judge has arrived!" Lincoln declared from behind them, and Clarke spun to accept her semi-official clipboard. He handed her an air horn as well, and Clarke gasped and clapped excitedly.

Lexa seized her wrist before she could test it out

"You wanna head start, Lex?" Tristan asked, smiling cockily.

Clarke tucked her fingers into the waistband of Lexa's shorts, just in case, but Lexa's eyes just flashed and settled again. She strapped her leash to her ankle wordlessly and finished the last of her hotdog.

"How 'bout you give me a head start?" Bellamy joked.

Lexa eyed his wetsuit jacket judgmentally, eyebrow lifted.

"Hey, we're not all penguins like you, Lexa."

"Not a penguin," Clarke muttered, "Just an idiot."

Bellamy laughed and jogged towards the water. Lexa stared at Clarke for a moment, eyes narrowed, "What was that?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Clarke drawled, a perfect imitation.

She failed to keep her face straight for much longer and Lexa scoffed, amused. She kissed her girlfriend and picked up her board. "Wish me luck, Clarke Griffin?"

"Luck." Clarke grinned. "Don't freeze."

She tugged Lexa's rashguard down her back where it had ridden up and then followed Lincoln to their rudimentary judging station. It was surrounded by spectators, all lined up and facing the water and chattering excitedly.

"Who are you rooting for, Clarke?" A young man called, smiling at her.

She shrugged vaguely, eyes dancing as she settled into her seat. "I am completely objective."

"Well we're rooting for Lexa."

A friend jumped into the conversation, knocking his buddy aside. "Yeah my brother's doin' it but Lexa's cooler than him.

Clarke laughed. Lexa would be pleased.

"Our grandma says you and Lexa are cute together and we need to hurry up and find some girls like you."

She lifted her eyebrows at that, still laughing lightly. It occurred to her that she was having an incredibly effective, if unplanned and inadvertent, press day. She and Lexa didn't get out much in the public eye together, but her fans had been kind and receptive and welcoming of Lexa since the second set of candids of her running and tripping into the ocean with Clarke clinging to her back.

If Clarke was shrieking and happy, they were shrieking and happy.

Lincoln directed her to blow the air horn to signal the start of group one, and Clarke giddily lifted it up high and then nearly dropped it in shock and fright at the volume. Lincoln chuckled and whistled as the first few surfers started paddling.

Clarke judged them objectively, going off what Lexa had taught her and what she could see on Lincoln's score card and what color their surfboards were.

Lexa was content to bob around for a few minutes, waiting for the right swell. Most were messy close-outs that a lot of people were going for just to get a wave under their belt. She watched Bellamy drop into a wave with a few other people on it and then immediately aerial out.

He could beat them any day, she knew.

"Boris," she yelled, and then gave him a goofy thumbs-up when he looked at her.

He returned it and paddled lazily past the break again.

Tristan had caught a wave already – a heavy, frothy thing – and Lexa rolled her eyes at his grin.

"Tristan one, Lexa zero," he yelled, paddling furiously to get back out.

She lifted a hand and easily called, "Don't herniate yourself."

Tristan seemed to ignore her as he set about catching the next possible wave, regardless of its quality. Lexa eyed the swells and picked one that she knew would break with a clean face. She wasn't much into winning, but she could swear that the crowd got louder when she executed a seamless layback snap right at the lip of the wave. She grinned and held up a hand, aerialed out.

Raven was riding in on the wave behind her, clutching something in her hand – a sliced off segment of the tail of her board – and Lexa caught the Doppler effected, "Some of these people are fucking incompetent!" as she whizzed by.

She inhaled a lung full of water in her laughter, paddled back out, caught another wave, and crouched to ride the barrel easily, no fluff or strings or fancy things. When she emerged, Bellamy was throwing an air reverse in the whitewater purely to entertain the crowd.

Her knees twinged as she started paddling back out, so she pushed harder.

Clarke blew the air horn signaling two minutes left and Lexa smiled to herself.

"Runnin' outta time, Lexa," Tristan shouted, red-faced, as he was nearly trapped inside the break and pummeled.

Lexa duck dived easily and called, "Let's simmer down now, Tristan."

Her last wave was the best of the set – glassy and clean and powerful – and the other two surfers attempting to catch it bailed at the last minute. Lexa rode lazily, thoughtfully, and threw an easy bottom turn before carving up and down the face. She kissed the lip, then went back up for an aerial to fakie, landing backwards and laughing at the cheers she could hear.

She cut her board back around 180 degrees and let the wave carry her all the way in when Clarke started blasting her air horn repeatedly.

While the judges deliberated, Lexa dropped into the sand next to Raven, breathing heavily and studying her friend's board.

"Dinged it?" she panted.

"Sliced an inch of the fucking tail off, actually," Raven said matter-of-factly, nodding.

Lexa snorted. Bellamy would have his hands full tomorrow.

Clarke sought him out quickly and politely pulled him away from his conversation with a few of the other competitors. She propped her sunglasses on her head and glanced around to make sure nobody was listening.

"Lexa won," she whispered.

Bellamy grinned and shook his hair out. "Figured she would."

A proud, conflicted smile flickered on Clarke's face. "But would she want the trophy?" she asked, "Or do you think she'd think it's better for business if it goes to – "

"Give her the trophy, Clarke," Bellamy said, smirking. "You know that idiot wants one."

Clarke peered around and found Lexa lounging in the sand, a tangled mess of dark and saltwater and twisted clothes, eyes shut like she couldn't care less. Clarke bit her cheek and stepped away from Bellamy, then turned back and tapped his chest and said "Don't call my girlfriend an idiot."

She met Monty and Harper at their judging station, and Lincoln produced a microphone and drew everybody's attention with a deep, "Hello, hello," followed by a few words thanking the crowd for coming and the competitors for surfing and the sharks for not biting.

He crowned the second and third place winners first, both locals, and they hugged Clarke and held up their goodie bags of merchandise victoriously.

Clarke watched Lexa, who was standing to the side of the crowd with her arms crossed, her bright hair curling as it dried. Raven elbowed her, whispered something, and Lexa looked up and caught Clarke's eye. Her eyebrows lifted questioningly.

"And in first place…" Lincoln drawled, "Winner of the first annual Jupiter Surf Amateur Free-for-All Extravaganza…"

Clarke rocked on her heels, fingers digging into the small trophy Bellamy had had made.

"Redondo's newest…Ms. Lexa Woods."

Lexa groaned immediately, flushing bright red. It all morphed into a belly laugh, and she caught Clarke's gaze again, celebratory and delighted.

"Who's…who's Lexa Woods," Raven questioned, dragging Lexa forward with a smile. "I don't know who that is."

Clarke met her halfway, trophy extended eagerly, but Lexa pushed it aside and kissed her instead. She squeezed her tightly, pressed every inch of her soaking, sandy torso against Clarke's and grinned against her lips. Clarke went as violently red as Lexa had turned in the sun and tugged on Lexa's hair to get her to pull back.

The spectators hollered for their favorite, probably for Clarke as well, and Lexa pried her trophy out of Clarke's grasp and held it up to thank them.

She looked down a moment later, and Clarke was still flaming red, soaking up the atmosphere.

Lexa tilted her girlfriend's chin up and lifted an eyebrow. "Head on straight, Clarke Griffin?"

Clarke remembered tripping over her surfboard almost a year ago. It had been the same expression, the sunshine hair, and the knowing, steady green eyes.

But the shorts had changed, and the setting had changed, and Clarke laughed and brushed the sand off her lips and said, "I just love you."

* * *

"I'm gonna miss you guys," Lexa declared to nobody in particular, unsure if anyone was even listening to her.

They all sat around the fire pit in Clarke's backyard, in varying states of inebriation. Clarke was roasting marshmallows and feeding the ones she accidentally caught on fire to Lexa, which was amalgamating with the beer Lexa had consumed and turning her into a nauseous, puffy lump.

"We'll come back soon, honey," Katherine promised.

Raven lifted her glass from across the fire, smirking, "For the wedding."

Clarke shook her head distractedly and presented Lexa with another blackened, charred marshmallow. Lexa accepted with no hesitation.

"You're gonna throw up," Harper predicted bluntly.

Lexa shook her head.

Lincoln leaned forward and poked Lexa with the end of his marshmallow spear. "We'll miss you too, Lex."

"Don't forget us," Raven requested, only half-joking.

Lexa nudged Clarke's bare feet to get her to pull them back from the fire. "I don't forget people."

Raven opened her mouth to protest, but Lexa hurriedly amended, "I mean you people." Her eyes drifted around their little circle. "You're easy to remember."

Bellamy hummed. "Because we're spectacular."

"Because you love us," Clarke said with a smile, leaning in close.

"Because you annoy me."

"Hey, Lexa," Bellamy threw a marshmallow at her face, "Touch your elbow."

"Shut it, Boris," Clarke said, flinging her own flaming marshmallow in his direction.

Lincoln and Harper – on either side of Bellamy – both fled, protesting, "His wasn't on fire!"

Lexa touched her elbow, after checking with her head multiple times, and demonstrated smugly to the group. Clarke smiled affectionately and seized her arm to hold.

After a while, Lexa tipped back in her chair and watched Clarke with hazy eyes. She was laughing loudly, tossing marshmallows, listening to Katherine's stories of Lexa's childhood Halloween costumes and school plays. The fire made her eyes shine gold, and Lexa knew that if she ran her hand up Clarke's leg she'd find the smallest raised lines from a Florida man o' war.

She did it, and Clarke jumped slightly at the touch and turned to face her.

"You okay, baby?"

Lexa nodded silently.

Clarke sat back and tipped towards her, brushing the dark hair out of her face. "You sure?"

Maybe the "C" on her board could be "Casal" next. Lexa smiled, nodding. Clarke kissed her sandy palm.

"I remember you the best, and the longest." Lexa murmured, shrugging at Clarke's look. "The strongest. I remember you the strongest."

A smile spread slowly across Clarke's face. "Yeah?"

Lexa's nose scrunched a bit. "Hold on, who are you?" she questioned, confused. "I was talking about –"

"Shut your face," Clarke said through a laugh.

"Oh," Lexa rolled her eyes, "It's Clarke Griffin."

"Just so you know," Clarke kissed Lexa's lips, noticed that they were coated in sugary, sticky, burnt marshmallow, "I love you too."

**Author's Note:**

> original fic: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8818337/2/Ain-t-That-a-Kick-in-the-Head  
> written by: iamapanda on ffn or elly-bells on tumblr


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